Moody Slavic Man
by Elanor Gamgee
Summary: "Missing scenes" from Goblet of Fire, Viktor's POV.
1. Watching Her

Moody Slavic Man

Author's Note: None of this belongs to me. This story is based on _Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire_ by J.K. Rowling and will feature "offstage scenes" as well as scenes from the book reinterpreted from Viktor's point of view. (This is a companion piece to "Hermione's Fourth Year".)

Special thanks to Zsenya for finding me a picture of Viktor's home, inspiring the title, betareading, double-checking my dialogue, and being a general resource on all things Slavic.Thanks also to Moey for her ridiculously thorough knowledge of _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them_, and to Jedi Boadiceaand B Bennett for betareading.

This is dedicated to Arabella, for falling in love with a fictional Bulgarian. J

**Moody Slavic Man** **By Elanor Gamgee**

**Part 1: Watching Her**

Viktor stared down at the Advanced Transfiguration textbook on the table in front of him.She was back.He'd known she would be, of course.That was why he had come to the library today in the first place.That was why he had come to the library nearly every day for the past month. 

It hadn't started out that way; in the beginning, he had merely used the immense Hogwarts library as a place to go when the Durmstrang ship grew too confining, or when Karkaroff's rhetoric about how the honor of his school rested upon Viktor's shoulders became too much to bear.He had come to Hogwarts for this tournament not expecting much, other than to compete.He certainly hadn't expected to experience feelings like this—and about a girl with whom he'd never even spoken.

The girl had settled herself at a table across the library and begun poring over one of the books from the large stack in front of her.Viktor watched as she absently twined a strand of her curly brown hair around her finger, then stopped to scribble something in a notebook.She looked completely absorbed in her work, and Viktor wondered if she would even notice if he spoke to her.__

At that moment, the girl looked up, and Viktor quickly returned his gaze to the book in front of him.It was ridiculous, really, that he was acting this way.Why couldn't he just go and talk to her?She was alone now.When he'd first seen her in the library, she'd always been with that Harry Potter; Viktor had assumed that he was her boyfriend, and had stayed away.He'd heard rumors about the two of them as well.

He did know her name, of course: Hermione Granger.He'd seen it in that article in the _Daily Prophet_, the one that had confirmed his suspicions about her and Potter_._But in his mind, he always thought of her as "she", or "the girl".He wasn't sure why.

He almost felt like he knew her, though they had never spoken.He had spent so much time watching her.He knew, for instance, that she was very studious and cared about her schoolwork.And he knew that she hated the presence of his giggling fans nearly as much as he did—she frequently rolled her eyes and left the library when they appeared.In fact, that what was had first captured his attention.One day he had been sitting at his table, trying to ignore the high-pitched laughter coming from behind a row of bookshelves, when he had heard a loud tutting noise.He'd looked up to see the girl glaring at him, as if the interruption had been his fault (which, he supposed, in a way it was).He'd wanted to apologize to her, in that moment, but had found that he couldn't.She had spoken briefly with Harry Potter, who'd been seated at the table with her, then had gathered up her books and left the library, brown curls swinging behind her.

But ever since the first task, she'd been coming to the library alone every day, something Viktor found both delightful and frightening.It meant he no longer had an excuse not to approach her.

Viktor gritted his teeth and shook his head in disgust.Why was he making this so difficult on himself?Why couldn't he just learn to like one of the girls who followed him around, instead of becoming fascinated with one who clearly disliked him already?He sneaked another look at the girl.She was reading her book once again, apparently oblivious to everything else.

Viktor glanced around the library.It was the middle of the day, right after lunch, and the room was fairly empty.A boy and girl wearing black Hogwarts robes were having a quiet conversation in the far corner behind a row of bookshelves, but he and the girl were the only ones occupying the study tables.There was no sign of the gigglers.He'd never have a better chance to approach her than he did right now.

Pushing his chair back, Viktor took a deep breath and stood up.He closed his book carefully and tucked it under one arm, all the while not looking at the girl.He knew he could do this.He had faced a dragon, after all.Why should talking to a girl be frightening?

Viktor walked toward her table.She was still looking down at the book in front of her, and as he got closer he could see that her lips were pursed in thought.He was about a meter away from her table when she looked up and saw him walking towards her.

_Talk to her_, Viktor ordered himself, as he saw her eyes narrow, almost suspiciously.

But his mouth did not want to cooperate.Neither did his legs, apparently, because they carried him right past her and out the door of the library.

******************

_Foolish, foolish, foolish!_ Viktor berated himself as he threw his Transfiguration book down on his bunk. _Why_ hadn't he been able to talk to her?She was just a girl after all.

_No.Not just a girl_, he thought.Those gigglers, they were just girls.She was…something else.

Viktor leaned against the wall of his cabin, arms crossed, staring out the porthole at the castle in the distance.She was up there, probably still sitting at her table in the library, reading her book.He could see her in his mind, the way she would quickly turn the page, as if eager to see what new information awaited her.She'd probably been relieved that he had passed her without speaking; after all, he was from Durmstrang.The look she had given him—

A knock on his cabin door interrupted his thoughts."What is it?" he called tersely, wishing that the person on the other side would just leave him alone.

"Krum!Open the door!" called a far-too-cheerful voice.Viktor groaned.

"Go away, Pashnik."

"Krum!Stop playing the moody Slavic man and let me in."

Viktor rolled his eyes and reluctantly opened the door.Ivan Pashnik, a shorter, fair-haired boy, burst into the room.

Viktor folded his arms again."What do you want?"

"You heard about the ball?" Pashnik said.

Viktor frowned.He had no idea what Pashnik was talking about.Then again, this was nothing new.Ever since he had entered Durmstrang Institute, Ivan Pashnik had appointed himself Viktor's best friend.Pashnik's enthusiasm never wavered, even though Viktor rarely spoke to him and generally preferred to be left alone.Pashnik was always trying to make him laugh, something which Viktor found incredibly annoying.

Pashnik was grinning at him."The ball?" he said. "The Yule Ball?The traditional Yule Ball that is part of the Triwizard Tournament?"

Viktor unfolded his arms and stared at Pashnik.

"And the champions lead the dancing," Pashnik continued, his grin growing wider."The champions and their partners.I saw you storming in here just now.I thought you'd heard."

Viktor frowned again."No.I had not heard," he said absently.He was thinking of the girl, and how he now had the perfect excuse to approach her.He wondered what she would say if asked her to attend this ball with him?Would she even consider it?

Pashnik seemed disappointed in his reaction to the news.He wandered over to Viktor's bedside table, where the golden egg from the first task sat."Have you learned what this means yet?" he asked, picking up the egg and turning it over in his hands.

"No," said Viktor."Do not—"

But it was too late.Pashnik had opened the clasp on the side of the egg, and hideous wails filled the room.Viktor strode across the cabin in three long steps and snatched the egg, closing it quickly.

"What was that?" said a girl's voice at the door.Viktor merely grunted in response, unwilling to start any more conversations at the moment.

Pashnik, however, turned toward the door with an enormous smile on his face."Edina!That? That was the wailing of my heart when I am away from you!"He moved toward her, arms outstretched.

Edina, a pretty girl with light brown hair, swatted his hands away, giggling.Viktor flinched at the sound.

"Ivan, come help me," Edina said imploringly."Josef's Puffskein has made the water overflow again, and your Drying Charms are so much better than mine."Viktor shook his head.Poliakoff had thought it was clever to teach his pet how to turn on the taps in the bathrooms with its tongue.Unfortunately, he hadn't been able to teach it to turn them off.

Pashnik turn to Viktor with a wink."I have work to do," he said in a mock-solemn tone.

Viktor gladly closed the door behind them.He sat down on his bed, thinking about the news Pashnik had given him.A ball.Now he would definitely have to speak to her.He couldn't imagine who else he would ask to be his partner.There were only three girls in the Durmstrang party, and Edina was the only one he could stand.And she would certainly go to the ball with Pashnik.

_Enough_, he thought, looking down at the golden egg he was still holding._You will ask her the next time you see her.Now stop thinking about it.You have work to do_.

But he couldn't help glancing out through the porthole again, up toward the castle where he knew she still sat, completely unaware of him.


	2. Asking Her

Moody Slavic Man Part 2: Asking Her

Author's Note: None of this belongs to me. This story is based on _Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire_ by J.K. Rowling and will feature "offstage scenes" as well as scenes from the book reinterpreted from Viktor's point of view. (This is a companion piece to "Hermione's Fourth Year".)

Special thanks to Arabella and Jedi Boadicea for getting me jump-started on this part!And thanks to Zsenya and B Bennett for beta reading, and to Moey for, well, just being Moey!

**Moody Slavic Man** **By Elanor Gamgee** Part 2: Asking Her 

** **

Viktor crept down the ship's corridor as quietly as he could, favorite ****Baranof racing broom in hand. The other students were still asleep.He knew that Karkaroff would be as well; Karkaroff slept in nearly every day, preferring to let the students take care of themselves in the mornings.The ship was unusually quiet without the chattering of the other students, or the high-pitched giggling of the girls.The only sound now was the slight creaking of the timbers as the ship rocked slightly from side to side in its moorings, and the soft thunks of Viktor's heavy shoes on the wooden deck.

Viktor reached the gangplank and emerged onto the shore, stopping for a moment to gauge the weather.It was a cold and clear Saturday morning, perfect for flying.And it was made even more perfect by the fact that no one else seemed to be stirring yet, not in the castle, and not in the Beauxbatons carriage looming in the distance.

_ _

He made his way toward the Quidditch pitch, enjoying the sharp tang of the cold morning air as it hit his lungs.This was his favorite time of day.This was the time when he was free—no reporters, no girls following him around, and no one telling him what to do or putting expectations on him.This was the time when he could do as he pleased.

Viktor reached the deserted Quidditch pitch and walked out to the center, looking around at the high stands that surrounded the open space.He admired Hogwarts for its Quidditch pitch.This was much nicer than its barren and rather uninviting counterpart at Durmstrang.Not that Viktor had been able to play much Quidditch at Durmstrang in quite some time—ever since he had joined the Vratsa Vultures as a professional player, his captain had insisted that playing for the school would decrease his skills.In any case, he spent so much time away from Durmstrang training with the team that he would not have been able to play there anyway.It was just as well, he mused as he mounted his broom and took flight.He never enjoyed Quidditch that much anymore, not the way he used to.

Viktor rose and circled the goalposts at the end of the field, relishing the cold wind whipping through his hair.It was strange—flying had brought him a sort of fierce joy when he had been younger, as if he could have stayed on his battered old Lada broomstick forever if given the chance.That was why he'd been thrilled when Anton **Topalovitch**, scout for the Vultures, had approached him about training for the team.Playing Quidditch professionally had seemed like a dream come true at age twelve, when he'd begun his training.Even when he'd joined the team three years later, it had all still seemed to good to be believed.

Now, he knew better.It was still Quidditch, it was still the sport he loved, and he had been able to convince his parents to move out of their cramped city apartment and build a new home in the country with his earnings.But _he_ was no longer the same.He no longer felt the joy that had led him to Quidditch when he was younger—that joy was now taken from him, bit by bit, every time he went out for a game.He was no longer flying for the joy it brought—he had other people to please now, other expectations to live up to.Sometimes he felt that the only time he was truly himself was when he was like this, flying all alone, with no one watching.

Viktor dived sharply and let his fingers trail over the frozen grass.He wondered briefly how the Hogwarts students felt about missing an entire year of Quidditch.He thought suddenly of the girl in the library—was she a Quidditch fan? —but he pushed the thought away quickly.He didn't want to think about her, not this morning.He quickly turned his thoughts back to the missing year of Quidditch.It would have upset him, when he'd been younger, when Quidditch was all that mattered.He realized suddenly that _he_ was missing an entire year of Quidditch too—he had had to take a leave of absence from the team to compete in this tournament.He was supposed to be continuing his training and practicing regularly while at Hogwarts, but somehow these early morning flights were the most he had managed to do.He could only imagine his team captain's reaction to this news; Conrad Boyar was not a man who took Quidditch lightly, and he insisted on the same level of dedication from his team.

The sun was rising higher now, and pinkish light was spreading across the sky.Viktor rose too, soaring high above the stadium.He vaguely wondered what would happen if he just kept rising, higher and higher, and never came back.This thought often occurred to him when he was soaring on his broom like this, especially back home when he would go flying in the mountains.What if he kept going, further and further, and was never seen again?He'd never do it, of course, but there was a strange exhilaration in the idea that he _could_.

Viktor saw movement on the grounds, far below, and his knew that his solitude was over.He knew that he should go back to the ship, knew he should work on that egg.Karkaroff had swept into his cabin just the night before to demand why he had not yet solved it and have a look at it himself.The corners of Viktor's mouth turned up slightly as he recalled the outraged look on Karkaroff's face when he hadn't been able to figure out the egg either.Karkaroff hated any of his efforts to be thwarted, particularly those involving cheating.

Viktor soared down once more, taking the return as a steep dive, which he pulled out of at the last second, then made a gentle landing and dismounted.He paused for a moment, letting his legs get used to being on the ground, and letting his mind shift away from its introspection.Then he threw his broom over his shoulder, and headed back for the Durmstrang ship.

**************************

Viktor spent the morning in his cabin, examining the golden egg from every angle and searching through _Box Without Hinge, Key or Lid: Eggs and Their Magical Significance_ for ideas.He was interrupted only when Poliakoff stopped by the ask if Viktor had seen his Puffskein ("Belenko!She's missing!When I woke up, the tap was running, and she was gone!"), and when Pashnik pounded on the door to tell him that he had better come out and scowl at the water-stains on the deck, because nothing else seemed to remove them.Viktor ignored them both and kept working.

By noon, however, he was no closer to solving the mystery and was feeling thoroughly frustrated.He went up to the castle for lunch, hoping that he would feel more focused after eating.But he felt his thoughts scatter even as he entered the front doors of the castle, as if physical proximity to the girl from the library immediately caused his brain to short-circuit.

He made his way to the Slytherin table, avoiding the end where Draco Malfoy sat, trying to catch his eye.Viktor didn't like Malfoy.He'd seemed nice enough in the beginning, that first night that the Durmstrang students had arrived.Malfoy had waved them over, been more than friendly.But since then Viktor had watched him with the other students, had seen the way he behaved.Viktor told himself that his attitude had nothing to do with the way the girl looked at Malfoy, as if she thought being boiled in oil would be too good for him.No, it wasn't because of her.But he could still see, quite clearly, the infuriated look on her face as Malfoy had called out across the hall, _"Look at the stunningly ugly Mudblood!"_

That was when he had realized that she was Muggle-born.He knew it should matter to him, or rather, it was _supposed_ to matter to him, the way Karkaroff and the other Durmstrang professors told it, but it didn't really bother Viktor at all. He had never really known any Muggle-born witches or wizards, and he found that this information had only served to make the girl more intriguing.

Viktor chose a seat, telling himself it was merely a coincidence that he had a clear view of the girl from where he was sitting.She was over at the Gryffindor table, with Potter and the red-haired boy, talking earnestly.Viktor helped himself to some stew and began eating.

He had visited the library every day this week, hoping to have an opportunity to approach her, to ask her to the ball.Now that he had an excuse, a reason to be talking to her, he was anxious to get it over with.But he'd never had another opportunity like the one he'd had on the day of his failure—she was always with one of her friends, or the giggling girls were milling about, or the eagle-eyed librarian was hovering too nearby.

Pashnik dropped into the seat next to him."Viktor!You moved too quickly!I was calling you—didn't you hear me?"

Viktor shook his head, still eating.

Pashnik grinned. "One track mind," he said, ladling stew into his own bowl."Did you solve it yet?"

It took a moment for Viktor to understand what he was asking; he had still been watching the girl.Viktor shrugged."Not yet," he grunted.

Pashnik followed his gaze and grinned."What are you looking at?" he asked.

Viktor turned to him, startled. "Nothing."

Pashnik's grin grew wider."Found a partner for the ball yet?"

Viktor frowned, his face growing warm."Not yet," he said again.

Pashnik glanced down the table, to where the three Durmstrang girls were sitting, and dropped his voice."I am going to ask Edina this afternoon.Do you think she will say yes?"

Viktor snorted without meaning to.He looked down to the table and saw Edina giving Pashnik a huge smile."Perhaps," he said sarcastically.Pashnik didn't seem to have heard him, as he was busy grinning back at her.

Viktor sighed inwardly and turned back to look at the Gryffindor table.The red-haired boy was shaking with laughter now, while Potter was slumping his seat, and the girl was giving them both a reproachful look.Suddenly she pushed back her chair and said something to them, then stalked toward the doors to the hall.

Viktor's heart rose a little.She was probably going to the library.And most of the students would still be here in the Great Hall, eating lunch.This could be his chance to talk to her alone.He quickly finished his stew and gulped down some pumpkin juice, muttered an excuse to Pashnik (who wasn't paying the slightest bit of attention, caught up as he was with making stupid faces at Edina, who seemed to think this display extremely attractive), and left the hall.

When he got to the library, however, it was empty.Only the librarian, Madam Pince, was there.She gave him a suspicious look as he entered, swept his eyes over the empty tables, and then walked out again.Viktor let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding._Where is she?_ he thought.Where else did she go?He suddenly realized how very little he knew about this girl.But that was why he wanted to talk to her—to get to know her, to find out more about her.

He did want to talk to her, didn't he? A nervous spasm gripped his stomach._Stop it_, he told himself firmly._When you see her, you will speak to her_.

Viktor walked restlessly down the corridor, wondering where to go next.Could she have gone outside?Was there somewhere else in the castle she liked to spend time?He decided to take a walk around the grounds, and tried to look as purposeful as possible while doing so, to make sure that no one would stop to ask him questions.

After twenty minutes, he had to admit defeat.He hadn't followed her quickly enough.The adrenaline that had been fueling his restless search began to ebb a little, and Viktor felt strangely deflated.Not willing to face the frustrating confines of his cabin again, he decided to return to the library anyway.Perhaps if he did more research, the egg's meaning would become clear.

When he walked into the library again, however, he was stopped in his tracks by the sight of a brown head, bent over a notebook, at the table he'd become accustomed to watching.He paused and stared at her for a moment.So she had come here after all.He knew that much about her, at least.The girl glanced up, met his eyes briefly, and then quickly bent over her work again.

Viktor glanced around the nearly deserted library.This was what he had wanted—an opportunity to talk to her without anyone else around.Why was he hesitating?

_Don't think too much_, he told himself, forcing his legs to move toward her table.He went to stand directly across from her.She didn't look up.In fact, she didn't seem aware of his presence at all.

_Say something,_ said the voice in his head.

"May I sit here?" he managed to get out.He hoped that his nervousness didn't show on his face.

She looked up sharply, her mouth open slightly in surprise."Er...of course," she said, sounding taken aback.

Viktor pulled out a chair and sat down, trying to fight the feeling that she was going to tell him to go away and leave her alone.Now that he was here, sitting across from her, he didn't quite know what to say.But he knew he had to say _something_—she was still looking at him, and her eyes had narrowed the tiniest bit, taking on that slightly suspicious expression he had noticed before.

"I am Viktor Krum," he said, holding out a hand, not knowing how else to begin.

She gave him a look he couldn't quite read, but shook his outstretched hand, flashing him a brief smile."Hermione Granger," she said, her voice kinder now.Somewhere beneath all of his nerves, Viktor noted that she had a beautiful smile, one that he wouldn't mind seeing directed at him more often.

Viktor racked his brain for something to say, and remembered the _Daily Prophet_ article."I have been hearing that you are the top of your class.You work very hard, yes? I see you in here often." 

The girl blushed, and Viktor wondered if he had said the wrong thing."Well," she said, "you must work quite a bit yourself, to have become a champion."

Viktor grunted, not sure how to respond.He didn't really want to talk about the tournament, not with her.

"And the way you faced that dragon!" she went on, "I didn't think of…I mean, I never would have thought of the Conjunctivitis Curse. That was brilliant."

Viktor watched her, surprised at this sudden burst of enthusiasm.He was used to thinking of her as pensive and reflective; this sudden passion was new information.It somehow made her even more attractive.

She shifted slightly, and he realized that he had been staring.He dropped his gaze to the notebook in her hand."What are working on?" he asked, to break the awkward moment.

She looked down too, seemingly surprised at the sudden change of topic."Oh!" she said, "This is for the Society for the Promotion of Elfish Welfare, S.P.E.W. for short.Did you know that elves have been enslaved for _centuries_? To think that our fellow magical creatures would be abused in such a way for so long, and no one has done anything about it!That's why S.P.E.W. was formed.Our short-term aims are to gain fair wages and working conditions for house-elves.Eventually we hope to get an elf into the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, because it is appalling that they are so under-represented now.So far we have been recruiting members and working on our leaflet campaign.Oh!And I forgot the bit about wand use—another of our long-term aims is to change the law forbidding elves to use wands…"

Here she paused to take a breath, and Viktor, who had been nodding and trying to follow this impassioned speech, all the while marveling at how he ever could ever have thought that this girl was quiet and reserved, broke in quickly.

"I want to ask you something."

"Yes?" she said, turning her gaze on him, and looking like she thought she knew what was coming.

Viktor had a sudden panicky jolt, wondering if she was already working out how she would reject him._Just ask her,_ he told himself sternly._This is why you came here._He took a deep breath, and then said, "Will you go to the Yule Ball with me?"

She stared at him, as if she hadn't heard what he'd said.For a moment he wondered if he had actually said the words out loud, or if they had only been in his head, the way he had practiced them a thousand times.

She was still staring mutely when he heard the giggle behind him._Not now!_ he thought angrily, whipping around.A group of girls had entered the library.One of them, a blonde with a Bulgaria scarf around her waist, waved and giggled again when she saw him looking in her direction.

Viktor turned back to his companion.He didn't want her to see this, didn't want her to be a part of this.She was too good for it.She was still looking slightly dazed as he leaned forward and dropped his voice."Will you think about it?" he asked, hoping his gruff whisper didn't betray his nerves.

She nodded without saying anything.Viktor's heart sank.Then she gave him another one of those smiles—a tentative one, to be sure, but it gave him hope nevertheless.

Viktor stood up quickly, wanting to get away from the giggling girls as quickly as possible.He nodded at her. "I will see you later, then."

He strode quickly out of the library, his irritation mounting as the girls followed him.Determined to ignore them, he made his way quickly out of the castle and headed back to the ship.

_She will never say yes now,_ he thought.She would think he was an arrogant fool.She would think that he actually _enjoyed_ those girls following him around.After all, she already thought that, didn't she?

Without meaning to, he remembered the way her eyes had shone when she had been telling him about her house-elf rights program—S.P.E.U., was it?He wished he had paid closer attention.But the sight of her talking animatedly, focusing her attention on him, had been fairly distracting.He had found that his image of her had been remolded several times, even in their brief conversation, and he wondered how many other surprises lay beneath that unassuming surface.

He wanted to find out.He wanted to get to know her.The only question was: would she let him?


	3. Waiting For Her

MSM 3

Author's Note: None of this belongs to me. This story is based on _Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire by J.K. Rowling and will feature "offstage scenes" as well as scenes from the book reinterpreted from Viktor's point of view. (This is a companion piece to "Hermione's Fourth Year".) _

Thank you to everyone who has reviewed this story so far! I had no idea there were so many Viktor Krum fans out there.Kudos to Katie for catching the _Hobbit_ reference in Part 2—glad to see another Tolkien fan abroad!And Anne—let me just say you're on to something.J

Thanks also to Zsenya, Arabella, Moey, and B Bennett for betareading.And, Arabella, yes, you may kiss Viktor.

I am sorry for the randomly weird formatting in the middle.I tried to fix it about 72 times and couldn't.If it annoys you too much, read it here instead:

http://www.sugarquill.com/archivehp/moodyslavicman.html#part3

**Moody Slavic Man**

**By Elanor Gamgee**

**Part 3: Waiting for Her**

Viktor looked up at the sound of the library door opening.A tall, dark-haired girl entered, followed closely by a shorter, blond boy.Viktor scowled to himself as the two walked past his table, deep in conversation.He'd promised himself that he wouldn't look up every time the door opened; after all, he was only in the library to study.If he happened to run into her—Viktor frowned and bent over his Ancient Runes textbook again.

It had been four days since Viktor had finally gotten up the nerve to ask her to the ball, and she hadn't been in the library since.At least, not while he had been there.Was she avoiding him?_Most likely_, he thought sourly.He had seen her in the Great Hall at mealtimes, and she had seemed...tense.He had managed to catch her eye just the evening before at dinner, but she had only given him a nervous smile and turned away.Viktor could still feel the way his stomach had dropped.

But she had said that she would think about it.

This thought was not very comforting, as Viktor now harbored little hope that she would say yes.In fact, he was beginning to doubt that she would say anything at all.Perhaps her silence _was_ her answer.

He wished he could know for sure, either way.This interminable waiting was worse than rejection.He knew he should just give up on her and ask someone else...but he could think of no one else with whom he would want to attend the ball.And besides, he couldn't seem to help looking for her whenever he entered the Great Hall, or to stop himself from spending his free time in the library, hoping to meet her there.

The library doors opened again, and Viktor mentally cursed himself as his head snapped up.He let out a groan when he saw who had entered; Pashnik was bounding over to his table in his usual enthusiastic manner.

"I thought you might be skulking in here again," said Pashnik, far too loudly.Madam Pince, the irritable librarian, shot him a reproving look from behind her large oak desk.Pashnik didn't seem to notice."Karkaroff wants to see you," he continued.

Viktor was about to ask why Karkaroff wanted him when the sound of the door opening made him turn his head again.Five girls entered the library—Viktor recognized them right away as five of the gigglers.One of them, a blonde, saw him looking in their direction and immediately tried to catch his eye.Viktor quickly dropped his gaze to the book in front of him.

"Let's go then," he said curtly to Pashnik, gathering up his books and standing.He led the way out of the library, not really caring whether Pashnik was following or not.He ignored the girls still standing by the door, though he could feel their eyes on him.

Viktor moved so quickly that he was nearly in the Entrance Hall by the time Pashnik caught up with him.The shorter boy made an enormous show of pretending to be winded, resting his hands on his knees and panting. "What was that—"

"Excuse me," said a voice behind them.

Viktor swiveled around.The blonde girl from the library had followed them.She gave Pashnik a disdainful look, then turned to Viktor."Can I talk to you for a moment?" she said coolly.

Viktor could hear the grin in Pashnik's voice as he said, "I'll wait outside for you, Viktor."And he heard Pashnik move across the hall and out through the doors, leaving the Entrance Hall completely deserted except for Viktor and the girl.Viktor stared at her.She had a scarf with the Bulgarian colors tied around the waist of her black robes.He wondered if she realized how ridiculous it looked.

She shook her short blonde curls back from her face and smiled up at him cheekily."I was wondering if I could go to the ball with you," she said with a giggle.

Viktor continued to stare at her.She didn't seem embarrassed, or even nervous.In fact, she didn't even seem to care how he answered.It was almost as if she was asking him on a dare—which, he realized suddenly, she probably was.It was as if she wasn't even a person.

Or as if she didn't think that he was a person.

Viktor felt a sudden wave of nausea.The girl was still looking up at him, waiting for him to respond, an idiotic grin on her face.

Viktor turned toward the door."No.I do not think so," he muttered, still feeling slightly sick.He escaped through the front doors, not looking back.

Pashnik was lounging against the wall outside.He grinned when he saw Viktor."Another one asked you to the ball?" he chuckled."What is that—three, or four, now?"

Actually, it was six, but Viktor was not about to tell that to Pashnik.He merely grunted in response and descended the stone steps in front of the castle.Pashnik followed, and fell into step beside him.

"I am going to find a spell to conjure some flowers for Edina on the night of the ball," said Pashnik."Do you think she will like that?"

Viktor grunted again.To no one's surprise, Edina had agreed to go the ball with Pashnik, and he had been talking about his plans for the evening nonstop ever since.

Pashnik was eyeing him now, an amused look on his face."I thought you would know, since you are such a ladies' man," he said."Have you said yes to _any_ of your lovely admirers?"

Viktor merely gave him a warning look and kept walking.

"Well, why not?" said Pashnik."You need a partner for the ball, and…unless you've asked someone already?"Pashnik stopped and looked at him.Viktor didn't say anything.

"You _have_," Pashnik crowed, punching him on the arm."Viktor Krum, you old dog!How could you do something like this without telling me?"He pretended to wipe his eyes and put on a high, teary voice. "Our little Viktor is growing up…"

Viktor shot him a disgusted look and kept walking.Pashnik hurried to catch up."So," he said, "who is she?"

"What does Karkaroff want?" said Viktor loudly, ignoring Pashnik's question.

Pashnik frowned, but answered, "How would I know?I am only the messenger."He then proceeded to regale Viktor with an imitation of Karkaroff's imperious manner, but Viktor wasn't listening.

He was thinking about what Pashnik had said.Maybe he should have said yes to one of the girls who had asked him to the ball.Was he stupid to wait for…her?What if she never responded at all?What would he do then?Maybe he should have accepted the blonde girl's invitation just now.Then he thought of the way she had acted, and the sick feeling swooped through his stomach again.He knew he would rather attend the ball alone than with someone who looked at him like that.

He thought of _her_ and imagined the disgusted look on her face if she could have seen the way the blonde girl had acted.He smiled briefly to himself.Then he wondered…did she look at him the way he looked at the blonde-haired girl?After all, he was a stranger to her, too.And she hadn't given him any indication that she might say yes.

But she hadn't said no, either. Yet.

They had reached the ship now, and Viktor led the way up the gangplank, Pashnik still chattering away behind him.When they reached the corridor leading to the cabins, however, they stopped short.Water up to their ankles covered the deck.

"Not again," groaned Pashnik.

Viktor stared at the door to his cabin, which was ajar.He sloshed down the hallway, holding his robes up out of the water.Reaching the door, he cautiously eased it open.

The water had seeped into his cabin as well, easily flowing over the raised threshold.The bottom of the bedspread was soaking wet, and several pieces of parchment were floating around in a sodden mess, along with a few books and quills.

The cause of the mess became evident when Viktor raised his eyes and saw Belenko, Poliakoff's wayward Puffskein, swaying happily on the bedside table next to Viktor's golden egg.It emitted a low hum when it saw Viktor, and rolled right over, knocking the egg off the table.

"No!" Viktor cried.He dropped his books, darted forward and caught the egg before it could hit the water.He could only imagine what might happen to it if it got wet.

Pashnik applauded in the doorway behind him."Nice catch!" he said.
    
    Viktor placed the egg gently on his bed, and then pulled out his wand."_Assiccare_," 
    
    he muttered, waving his wand over the floor.The water disappeared instantly, 
    
    leaving the books, parchment, and quills strewn about on the floor.
    
     
    
    Viktor picked up the Puffskein, which hummed steadily in his hand."Take this," 
    
    he said, tossing it to Pashnik.The Puffskein hummed louder as it soared through 
    
    the air and landed in Pashnik's outstretched hands."Tell Poliakoff to keep his pet 
    
    in his own cabin."
    
     
    
    Pashnik threw him a mock-salute and headed down the corridor.Viktor could hear 
    
    him casting Drought Charms every few feet.
    
     
    
    Viktor looked around his messy cabin.He would have to deal with this later—he 
    
    had to go see Karkaroff now.Sure that Karkaroff wanted to check on his progress
    
    with the egg, Viktor picked it up and made his way out into the corridor.
    
     
    
    Karkaroff's cabin was at the opposite end of the ship.It was, of course, the largest, 
    
    and had the best view, situated as it was near the prow.The students' cabins were 
    
    much smaller by comparison, and all except Viktor had to share.
    
     
    
    Viktor had only had occasion to visit Karkaroff's cabin once before: when Karkaroff 
    
    had summoned him to tell him about the dragons he would be facing in the first task.
    
    Viktor hadn't bothered to ask how Karkaroff had found out what the task was.
    
    He had been fairly certain he didn't want to know.
    
     
    
    Viktor knocked on the door.
    
     
    
    "Enter," said the gruff voice from the other side.
    
     
    
    Viktor pushed open the door, carefully balancing the egg in his other hand.Karkaroff, 
    
    who had been seated at his ridiculously ornate desk in the corner, rose to greet him.
    
     
    
    "Viktor!" he cried unctuously. "Do come in!Have a seat."He indicated a 
    
    dragonhide-covered armchair.Viktor carefully deposited the egg on a table and 
    
    sat down. 
    
     
    
    "You wanted to see me, Headmaster?" said Viktor, with as much respect as he 
    
    could muster.He had never liked Karkaroff, but he always tried to be polite.
    
     
    
    Karkaroff laughed pretentiously and seated himself at the desk again, smoothing 
    
    his fur-trimmed robes as he did so."Of course, Viktor, of course," he said warmly, 
    
    but Viktor could detect a note of something else in his tone."I wanted to see how 
    
    you are doing."
    
     
    
    "I have not worked out the egg's clue yet," Viktor replied dully, staring down at the 
    
    red velvet bed covering to avoid seeing Karkaroff's yellowed teeth grinning at him.
    
    Karkaroff's teeth always made him think of the Graphorns he had seen once, in an 
    
    exhibition of dangerous beasts that he had attended with his father.
    
     
    
    Karkaroff seemed unconcerned."There is time," he said."There is time."
    
     
    
    Viktor looked up at him in surprise.Hadn't that been what Karkaroff had wanted 
    
    to see him about?
    
     
    
    But Karkaroff was leaning forward in his chair now, twirling his goatee around one 
    
    finger and giving Viktor an appraising look."The ball is approaching," he said simply.
    
     
    
    Viktor nodded, unsure whether or not he was expected to respond to this statement.
    
     
    
    "The champions will be expected to lead off the dancing," Karkaroff continued, still 
    
    twirling his goatee.
    
     
    
    Viktor nodded again.He saw irritation flicker in Karkaroff's eyes, but the older man 
    
    covered it with an insincere laugh.
    
     
    
    "Do you have a partner?" Karkaroff asked.

Did he?Viktor wasn't sure.But he knew that this wasn't the answer Karkaroff wanted to hear.So he nodded and said, "I have asked a girl from Hogwarts."

Viktor couldn't tell whether this news pleased Karkaroff, or made him angry.The look on his face was difficult to read.Viktor wondered how Karkaroff would react if he told him which girl from Hogwarts it was.He decided not to test his luck.

"I met her in the…dining hall," said Viktor steadily.It wasn't a lie.The first time he had seen her had been there, in the Great Hall, on the first night he had arrived.He and the other students had been following Karkaroff out of the hall, when Karkaroff had stopped dead, staring at Harry Potter.She had been right behind Potter, with the red-haired boy.Of course, he hadn't really seen her then as anything but Potter's friend.But now…

"Ah—good," Karkaroff was saying, a note of relief in his voice.Viktor could almost guess what Karkaroff was thinking as he relaxed into his chair._He thinks that the girl must be in Slytherin, if I met her at a meal._A Slytherin girl would be acceptable in Karkaroff's eyes, because, as Draco Malfoy liked to remind people at every meal, Slytherins were purebloods.

"Well," Karkaroff went on, "I wanted to tell you that we will be having a small reception by the ship before the ball, so that I can meet my students' partners." He flashed Viktor another yellow-toothed smile, and Viktor bit back a flash of anger._Pass judgment on them, you mean_, he thought."The reception will begin forty minutes before the ball.You will be there?"

Despite the interrogative tone, Viktor knew that it was not a question.He nodded mutely.

"Good, good," said Karkaroff, clapping his hands together and rising."And now I will let you go back to working on that egg."

Viktor rose, scooped the egg off the table, and departed.As he made his way back to his cabin, he wondered if he should have told Karkaroff the truth about whom he had asked to the ball.But a small voice inside his head told him that he had done the right thing.After all, this way, Karkaroff couldn't force him to ask someone else.He only hoped that she wouldn't be too uncomfortable attending the ball with him under Karkaroff's eyes.

_Of course_, he thought grimly, throwing the egg down onto his bed again, _this all assumes that she will agree to go to the ball with me in the first place._ _How could any girl possibly be worth all this?_

_ _

But she was.Viktor looked up through the porthole toward the castle.He didn't know why, but he knew that she _was_ worth it.

********************************

The next day, Viktor left lunch early to look up housekeeping charms in the library.The girl had been sitting with her back to him today, so he'd decided he might as well get started on cleaning up the mess Belenko had made.The house-elves had done a good job of cleaning up the books and parchment on the floor, but a pervasive smell of mildew still hung over his cabin.Indeed, Viktor thought that the entire ship could do with a good Mold-Removing Charm, and maybe even an Air-Freshener Spell, if he could find it.Though all the Durmstrang students had become very good at Drought Charms recently, the many floodings had still left their mark.

Viktor settled in at his usual table and began leafing through _Charm Your House Clean._He was just about to take out his quill and jot down a useful Bed-Making Spell when a shadow fell over him.

"May I sit here?" said a soft voice.

Viktor looked up quickly.It was the girl.He hadn't even heard the door open, but there she was, standing over him with a calm smile, waiting for him to give her permission to sit down.

"Of course," he said, sure that she must be able to hear his heart pounding.

She pulled out the chair and sat down facing him, her hands folded on the table in front of her.She smiled, and Viktor thought once again how beautiful she was when she did this."I would be honored to go to the ball with you," she said, "if you would still like to take me."

Viktor felt himself smiling broadly back at her.He couldn't seem to help it.His heart was still pounding, but now it was with relief and happiness, instead of nerves."I would," was all he said.

She was still smiling at him, and only when she turned pink and looked down did Viktor realize he had been staring.He cast around for something to say.

"There will be a reception," he blurted out.She looked up at him, puzzled."Before the ball," he explained, "for the Durmstrang students and our…partners.Do you mind attending?"

"Oh!" she said."No, I don't mind."

"Good," said Viktor.An awkward silence settled over them again.

"Er…what are you studying?" she asked brightly, gesturing at the book in Viktor's hand.

Viktor looked down at the book in surprise; he had forgotten it was there."Oh…this is not to study.This is for the ship…it is a long story," he said apologetically.

She looked slightly disappointed, but she pressed on. "So what is your favorite subject then?"

Viktor looked at her carefully.She seemed genuinely interested in the answer.This wasn't like the many times he had been asked such questions by reporters or fans.She truly wanted to know what he thought.

"Transfiguration, I think.It is the most challenging.I have been studying some Advanced Transfiguration with your Professor McGonagall…" Here he saw her mouth twitch, and he wondered if he was pronouncing the professor's name correctly.She didn't say anything, however, so he continued."I have been learning much here.She is a much better teacher than the one we have at Durmstrang."

She drew herself up proudly at these words."Professor McGonagall is an excellent teacher," she said, pronouncing the name slowly and clearly, but not drawing attention to his blunder.She was tactful; Viktor liked that."I love Transfiguration as well," she continued."What sorts of things are you studying?"

So Viktor told her about the large-object transformations he had been doing, and how he had just started on human transfiguration.She made a jealous sound when he mentioned the latter, and said, "Oh!I can't _wait _to get to that!"She seemed truly interested in hearing about what he had learned, and listened avidly as he described a recent lesson where a classmate had spent three-quarters of an hour with rabbit ears before he'd realized what had gone wrong.

"Have you managed any human transfiguration?" she asked eagerly.

Viktor paused, looking down at the table.None of his attempts so far had been very successful."I have been having some trouble with it," he said, slightly embarrassed."I am still working on it."

"Oh," she said.There was another awkward pause."So that's why you've been spending so much time in the library."

Viktor looked up at her, wondering if the truth would frighten her away.But he wanted her to know the truth.He wasn't sure why.Something about her made him want to be honest.

"Yes," he said, feeling brave and reckless,"but I also was wanting to talk to you. I was coming here every day, but…I did not have the courage to approach you."

She stared at him, an odd, almost suspicious expression on her face.The air around them seemed to have become more serious, more charged, somehow.

Finally she smiled nervously and looked down."Well…I'm glad you did," she said.

They sat there for a moment in silence, Viktor watching the top of her head bent over the table, one long curl falling down in front of her face.She was tracing little figure eights on the tabletop with one finger.He wanted very much to reach out and push that stray curl behind her ear.But he didn't.He wasn't sure what stopped him.

Finally, she looked up at the clock over the door."I have to go to Arithmancy," she said with an uncertain smile."I'll…talk to you later?"

Viktor smiled back at her."I will be here," he said.

She stood up, swinging her heavy bag over her shoulder.As she moved away toward the door, Viktor spoke again.

"And—" he began.She stopped and turned around to look at him."Thank you," he finished, looking into her brown eyes.

Her forehead wrinkled in puzzlement for a moment, but she gave him a half-smile."Thank you," she said.

And she turned and left the library.


	4. Dancing With Her

Moody Slavic Man Part 4: Dancing With Her

Author's Note: None of this belongs to me. This story is based on _Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire by J.K. Rowling and will feature "offstage scenes" as well as scenes from the book reinterpreted from Viktor's point of view. (This is a companion piece to "Hermione's Fourth Year".)_

Special thanks to Zsenya for betareading, and for the hex idea and the food, to Jedi Boadicea for the idea for the "Responsum" spell.

**Moody Slavic Man**

**By Elanor Gamgee**

**Part 4: Dancing With Her******

** **

Viktor awoke on Christmas morning with a slightly sick feeling in his stomach.It took a few moments for him to realize what day it was.Tonight was the Yule Ball.And he would be with her.In public.The thought of his private feelings being on display was almost enough to send him burrowing under the covers again.But then he thought of her._The champions are to lead off the dancing.Tonight he would have an excuse to touch her.Tonight he would dance with her._

As Viktor sat up, rubbing his face, he saw the pile of packages at the foot of his bed and groaned.His own family would not be celebrating the holiday for another twelve days, so he knew that the packages would be from people who didn't even know him.He quickly cast a Revealing Charm on the pile to make sure none of the packages were dangerous.This had become a habit ever since he had received a Pingvini Hex in the post after his team had beaten the Craidva Centaurs; he did not relish the idea of spending another afternoon with shrunken legs, waddling around like a penguin.The air around the pile of packages shimmered yellow for a moment, then subsided.The parcels were all safe.

Viktor hated this.He hated this enormous pile of expectations that showed up on his bed every holiday.And he hated the stacks of envelopes that appeared on his desk every evening.He knew he should appreciate it—his mother was certainly always telling him so.She liked to remind him how lucky he was to be known throughout the wizarding world, and to be seen as a role model for other young people.But Viktor would have traded every piece of post he had ever received to be allowed to play Quidditch as he had done as a boy—with his peers, and without expectations.Sometimes Viktor let his fan mail pile up for weeks at a time, as though it would disappear if he just ignored it.But his guilt—and the echo of his mother's voice—would eventually prod him to read it.He usually found himself searching desperately for some sign of sense, something he could relate to.Often, reading the letters would just depress him and make him feel more isolated than ever.

As soon as he opened the first envelope, however, he felt guilty for his initial reaction.Inside was a beautiful card that had been enchanted to emit soft music, while snow drifted softly onto the meadow depicted on the front.As he opened the card, a picture fell out and fluttered to the floor.He read the inside of the card before bending to retrieve the picture.Inside was written: 

Dear Viktor,

Merry Christmas and best of luck in the Triwizard Tournament.

With love from 

Megan

This was a simpler note than he had received in a long time.More amazing, the person who sent it didn't seem to expect anything from him in return.Curiously, Viktor looked at the picture.It showed a tall, pretty girl with long red hair, standing in front of a large Christmas tree, smiling and waving at him.Well, he thought, it certainly wasn't the worst piece of fan mail he had ever received.

Encouraged, Viktor put the card aside and opened the next package.This one was larger, and when he ripped off the brown paper, he found a box of fudge inside.The note attached to it read:

Dear Mr. Krum:

I saw your performance at the Quidditch World Cup and you were just amazing! I heard that you are competing in the Triwizard Tournament and I was not surprised one bit.You are an amazingly talented young man and I don't mind telling you that if I were a bit younger I would be sending you something much more provocative than fudge. Please send me an autographed picture for my collection.

Love,

Your Biggest Fan

Gladys Gudgeon

Viktor wondered what she meant by "something more provocative" as he put the box aside and turned to the next parcel on the pile.It was smaller, and gave off a feminine scent of perfume as he lifted it.For a moment, he froze, wondering if it might be from _her_.Taking a deep breath, he ripped off the paper and lifted the lid.

A piece of pink parchment lay on top of some fancy looking silver paper.Viktor could feel his heart pounding in his ears as he lifted the parchment and began to read.

My dear Viktor,

I would do anything for you.Anything.As I hope this gift shows.

Owl me!

Sarah Wells

Viktor's heart sank.He was foolish to think that _she would send him a gift. After all, she had agreed to go with the ball with him.Could he really expect more than that?_

With some trepidation, Viktor pulled back the silvery paper to reveal what was underneath.The sick feeling returned to his stomach as he saw that it was a silky pair of red panties.Instinctively, he flung the box away from him.It landed halfway across the room and turned over on the floor.

Viktor leaned his forehead onto his palms.He couldn't take this, not today.Taking another deep breath, he leaned over and picked up his wand from the nightstand."_Incendio," he muttered, pointing it at the fireplace.Flames sprang up immediately._

"_Mobilidonum," he said, now pointing his wand at the box on the floor.He did not want to touch its contents.The box turned over and soared toward the fireplace, where it fell into the flames with a soft __flump._

_ _

He was half-tempted to burn the entire pile of parcels now, but he knew his mother and his coach would both have a few choice words for him if he were to do something like that.Conrad always insisted that answering fan mail was a part of his players' obligation to the team.Reluctantly, Viktor sifted through the pile, and was rewarded by the sight of his mother's familiar loopy handwriting.Leaving her letter on the bed, he gathered the rest of the pile and carried it over to his desk.He pulled out a sheaf of parchment and a quill, tapped the pile of letters with his wand, then tapped the quill, muttering "_Responsum".The quill immediately began moving over the parchment, writing out a standard response to Jonas Roadcup of Brighton, who had written the top letter on the pile._

Satisfied that the spell was working properly, Viktor sat back down on his bed and opened the letter from his mother.

Dear Viktor,

Your father and I hope this finds you well.We are so sorry that you cannot be home for the holidays, but I am planning to send you all of my special treats in just a few days.Perhaps we will Apparate up for a short visit on the 6th if we can get away.The cousins will be arriving next week, but I am sure they will not mind if we slip away to see you for a bit.

Your father has been to see the Vultures practice four times this month, and he wishes me to tell you that Ligachev has been steadily improving, but he is, of course, not nearly up to your skill level.He says that Boyar is growing frustrated with him during your absence.Boyar is always asking your father when you will tire of the Tournament and come back to the team—"where you belong", he says.

Viktor felt a twinge of guilt as he recalled the rigorous practice routine that Boyar had given him when he had left Bulgaria, and how badly he had kept to it.

I hope this reaches you before your ball.I am sure that you will have a fine time, and that your young lady will as well.I have the impression that you are especially taken with this girl, though you say very little, as is usual for you.I know that you have missed many events like this while you have been working so hard with your team.I worry sometimes that you have missed out on too many things that a boy your age should be doing, so it is good to see you enjoying the kinds of things a young man should.I do hope that you will send us a picture from the ball, and that you will tell us the young lady's name?

Have a wonderful time, darling!

Love, 

Mother

Viktor shook his head.Sometime he felt as though his mother could read his mind; it was unnerving.He had barely mentioned the ball and his partner in his last letter to her, and she had, of course, sensed right away that it was more important than he had let on.It had been that way for as long as he could remember.It had been his mother who had understood how much he loved to play Quidditch, even while his father had blithely gone on about Viktor finding a position in the Bulgarian Ministry.

Deciding that he would write back to her later, Viktor put the letter aside.He glanced at the clock—twelve hours from now he would be meeting _her_.Trying to ignore the sudden flutter in his stomach, Viktor stood decisively and started to get dressed.If he hurried, he could spend some time flying before the other students woke up.He found he suddenly wanted to be airborne more than anything else—it was, perhaps, the only thing that would calm the restless energy that had suddenly seized him.

********************************

Viktor entered the Great Hall at lunchtime, his eyes instinctively straying toward the Gryffindor table.But she wasn't there.He sighed and made his way to the Slytherin table, where he found a seat next to Pashnik.Pashnik didn't seem to notice Viktor's presence, as he was completely engrossed in talking to Edina, who was practically in his lap.This was fine with Viktor; he was in even less of a mood to talk than usual.

As he helped himself to turkey and dressing, Viktor wished he could be out on his broomstick again.He had spent nearly an hour soaring above the empty Quidditch pitch before there had been any sign of movement on the grounds, and when he had entered the Great Hall for breakfast, there had been so few students there that he had wondered if the school had switched the mealtimes._She_ had not been there this morning.Apparently, Hogwarts students were used to sleeping in on holidays.Viktor had rarely had such a luxury.Absently, he realized that he now had the same opportunity, and wondered why he had failed to take advantage of it.

An almighty "CRACK" from his right made Viktor jump.Pashnik and Edina had pulled a large Wizarding Cracker, and were now laughing raucously as Pashnik pulled out a hideous flowered bonnet, while Edina waved smoke away.

An evil grin lit up Pashnik's face."Viktor!For you!" he cried, draping the bonnet over Viktor's head.Edina giggled uncontrollably.

Viktor felt his face grow hot as he reached up and snatched the bonnet."Don't do that," he muttered, shoving it back at Pashnik.Quite apart from wanting nothing to do with Pashnik's antics, Viktor had just seen _her_ enter the hall with her friends, and he was not about to let her see him in such a ridiculous state.

She was saying something to the red-haired boy, who was wearing a horrible orange hat that clashed with his hair.Whatever she said caused the boy to roll his eyes and walk around to sit on the opposite side of the table from her.She merely shrugged and continued toward her seat.As she turned to sit down, however, she seemed to feel Viktor's eyes on her, and looked up suddenly.She met his eyes and gave him a brief smile before turning back to the table.

Viktor wished he could go talk to her now.He wondered why he didn't.She had never said that he couldn't speak to her outside the library, but somehow, that was the only place they ever did speak.He still felt uncomfortable about the idea of approaching her when she was with her friends, and he was reluctant to let anyone from Durmstrang know about his feelings for her.She wasn't something he wanted to share with anyone else.

Viktor thought back to the last conversation they'd had.They had been in the library, of course; he had continued to look for her there every day, even after she had accepted his invitation.Some days she was there; most days she wasn't.But when she _was_ there, she always came over and talked to him, as if she knew that she was his only reason for being there.He felt as if he had learned more about her with every word, with every glance in his direction.Their conversation had been awkward at first, but she seemed to know exactly which questions to ask to get him talking.Before he had known it, he had found himself telling her about his father's collection of suits of armor, and how the singing armor at Hogwarts had given him an excellent idea for a gift for his father.She had told him about her parents and their strange Muggle profession of cleaning and fixing teeth.Viktor had been fascinated.

"Were they disappointed?" he had asked abruptly, as she finished explaining to him what a cavity was.

"What?" she had asked, looking startled.

"When they found out you were a witch.Did they want you to be a…dontist—"

"Dentist," she'd supplied helpfully.

"—dentist, as well?" he had asked.

She had frowned thoughtfully."No, I don't think so.I think they just really, really want me to be good at whatever I do.And I do too, of course," she had added hastily, looking up at him.

Viktor had nodded.He knew exactly what she meant.He knew what it was like to live with other peoples' constant expectations.He had wondered if she would understand, if he told her how much he sometimes wished he could be rid of it all.Would she think him ungrateful?

She'd shifted slightly, and Viktor had realized he had been staring at her again.He'd looked down quickly.

"Can I ask you something?" she had said quietly, and Viktor had looked up.She had begun twirling one of her curls around her finger again, with a look half-pensive, half-apprehensive on her face.This had made him nervous—what was she going to ask?

Viktor had nodded.

"I'm curious," she'd said."At the Quidditch World Cup, why did you catch the Snitch when you knew Ireland would win anyway?"

Viktor had stared at her for a moment in disbelief.She had wanted to ask him about Quidditch?But the serious look on her face had told him that her interest was genuine, so he'd shrugged and attempted to answer.

"We would not have won the match.It was better that way.It was my job to catch the Snitch.I caught it.We ended it on our terms."

She had looked slightly taken aback by his answer, then had pursed her lips in thought."That's what Harry said," she'd said absently.Viktor had frowned."We were there," she'd continued, "in the top box…Ron's father got us tickets.You really did fly well.It was very brave of you, catching the Snitch after your nose had been broken and all…" 

Viktor's irritation at her mention of Potter had melted away as she had given him one of those beautiful smiles.He'd flinched inwardly at the idea of her seeing him in a bloody mess after the game—and if she had been in the top box, she would have been close enough to touch.Why hadn't he noticed her there?But she'd thought he was brave.He wondered if she had any idea how much her comment meant to him.

Viktor was abruptly jostled back to the present as Pashnik shoved another Wizarding Cracker into his hand."Come now, Viktor, your turn!" he said loudly.Viktor gave a half-hearted tug and the cracker exploded, sending clouds of smoke billowing down the table.As the smoke cleared, a white rabbit hopped off of a serving platter.Edina seized it with a delighted squeal.Viktor stood up abruptly, ready to be far away from the noise of the Great Hall once again.

He spent the afternoon in his cabin, trying to ignore the footsteps that thundered up and down the corridor outside as the other students laughed and joked.The giggling, especially, seemed to have increased, which Viktor found amazing, since there were only three girls on the ship.By mid-afternoon, Viktor had a pounding headache.This was not helped by Pashnik pounding on his door every ten minutes inviting him to play chess, or cards, or some other silly game. 

Finally Viktor used one of his mother's headache remedies, which she always made sure to send him whenever he was away from home.He still felt slightly queasy, though, so he decided to get some fresh air up on the deck.No sooner had he emerged from below decks, however, than he heard shouting in the distance, followed by a high-pitched laugh.He looked up towards the castle, and saw a small group of people engaged in a snowball fight.Two boys with flaming red hair were pursuing a smaller figure, which was laughing loudly.As Viktor watched, a snowball came out of nowhere and hit one of the boys in the arm.The boy stopped and looked around for his attacker, and then a figure Viktor recognized as Harry Potter stepped out from behind a tree and threw a snowball at the second boy.When he saw Potter, Viktor's eyes automatically searched for _her_…and found her, seated on the steps of the castle, apparently watching the snowball fight with interest.He couldn't see her face from this distance, but he would know her posture and mannerisms anywhere—the way she clapped her hands delightedly as Potter hit one of the boys squarely in the chest with a snowball, her sudden indignation when the third red-haired boy—Ron, was it?—missed his target and his snowball hit her instead.

Watching the scene, Viktor felt a sudden longing to go and join the group.He wished he could know her like this—that they could have such vibrant, comfortable interactions, instead of the awkward conversations carried out over library tables.He tried to remember when he had ever been part of something as normal and ordinary as a snowball fight, and failed.It looked like fantastic fun.

"Viktor!There you are!" came a voice behind him.Viktor turned to see Pashnik holding the white rabbit that Edina had seized at lunch."We are going to teach the rabbit to dance.Do you want to help?"

Viktor shook his head distractedly."No," he said."I am going back to my cabin."

*********************

Viktor stood in the deserted Entrance Hall, clutching a bunch of wildflowers tightly in his fist.It was exactly seven o'clock, and she would be here any minute.Or so he hoped.A sudden cold feeling spread through his stomach as he wondered what he would do if she didn't come.

But he was being stupid.She would be here.As he had walked up to the castle, he had seen her friends climbing the stone steps in the distance, and she had not been among them.She must have left the snowball fight earlier to get ready to meet him.

_To meet him_.The thought sent fresh waves of panic through him.What was he doing here?How had he ever thought he would be able to attend a ball with someone like her?He was sure to make a fool of himself.He gripped the flowers more tightly and stared at a spot on the stone wall in front of him.

_Focus_, he told himself._Breathe._This was how he always calmed himself before a major Quidditch match.But, somehow, he couldn't remember ever being this nervous before any Quidditch match.He frowned at his own unrest and adjusted his robes—the black ones with the silver trim that his mother always insisted made him look very handsome.Viktor knew that he wasn't good-looking, especially his large and crooked nose.The Quidditch World Cup had not been the first time it had been broken by a Bludger.But being handsome had never really mattered to him, before.

A soft footstep on the landing above drew his attention at once.There she was, descending the marble staircase, looking very elegant, if slightly nervous.She looked very different from the girl he had spoken to in the library—even her walk was more poised—but he knew her at once.She wore a bluish-colored dress robe that floated around her like a cloud, and her hair was up in a bun.It was remarkable, in fact, how well this image of her meshed with the image that he had carried in his head.She looked like a princess.

Viktor couldn't help smiling at the sight of her, some of his nervousness ebbing away.She was here, just as she'd said she would be.

"Hermione," he said, trying her name for the first time.She frowned slightly, and he wondered why."You look lovely," he said hastily.She smiled again.He stared at her for a moment, then realized what he was doing, and held out the flowers."For you."

She looked delighted as she took the flowers, and Viktor privately vowed to give her flowers every day, if it would make her look at him like that."Thank you," she said, holding them to her nose and inhaling their scent."They're lovely."

_Like you_, he wanted to say, but the words got stuck in his throat.He couldn't seem to take his eyes off her.

"Well," she said, breaking the long moment of silence, "should we be going to the reception?"

Viktor shook himself.What was he doing, staring at her like an idiot?_Stop acting like a fool_, he told himself sternly.

"Yes," he said, turning toward the doors.

"I am rather looking forward to it," she said behind him, causing him to turn around in surprise.

"Are you?" he said blankly.He couldn't imagine why she would look forward to it; he didn't.

"Well," she said, a slightly puzzled expression on her face, "I would like to meet some of the other Durmstrang students.I haven't really had a chance before, and this tournament _is_ supposed to be about meeting people from other schools."

Viktor frowned to himself as he held the door open for her.Was that all this was about, for her?

The question flitted through his mind and was lost as he rushed forward to help her down the stairs.Her shoes seemed to be made of some sort of slippery material that didn't look safe for descending icy stone steps.Viktor was not about to let her slip.

They made their way along the path that had been worn by the Durmstrang students going back and forth to the castle.The snow had been packed hard here, but the slick surface still made Viktor worry.He hovered next to her, ready to catch her if she should slip.He realized that he had left his cloak on the ship, but it didn't matter.His nerves had distracted him from the cold on his way up to the castle, and now, walking so close to her, with his hand at her elbow, he felt…quite warm enough.She was wearing a delicate wrap that matched her robes, and did not seem to feel the cold at all.

Karkaroff had set up a large tent of red silk by the lake for the reception.As they approached it, Viktor felt his heart sink slightly.He did not want to take her in there.He knew what Karkaroff would probably think, but he didn't care.He was fairly certain that Karkaroff would not do anything embarrassing; much as the Headmaster liked to tell Viktor what to do at times, he also rarely failed to give him what he wanted.If this evening had been less important, or if he had any respect for Karkaroff at all, Viktor might have been troubled by taking advantage of that fact.

Karkaroff was standing by the front of the tent, wearing black robes with gray fur at the wrists and collar.Viktor muttered a hurried introduction to Karkaroff as they passed him and moved into the heated interior of the tent.The Headmaster didn't say a word, but narrowed his eyes.Viktor gritted his teeth and hurried his partner toward a group in the corner, where Pashnik was holding forth with one of his ridiculous stories.Even Pashnik was a welcome distraction at this moment.Edina's laughter pealed across the tent, and then she caught sight of Viktor and his partner. She turned quickly back to Pashnik, and they shared a meaningful look.Viktor wished he could evaporate on the spot, and take his partner with him.

Pashnik hopped down from the chair where he had been standing, and held out a hand to Viktor's partner."And who is this lovely creature?" he said, kissing her hand with an exaggerated bow and looking expectantly at Viktor.Viktor gritted his teeth.If Pashnik didn't let go of her…

But she was smiling, apparently amused by Pashnik's ridiculous behavior."Hermione Granger," she said, extricating her hand from Pashnik's and stepping back slightly to stand right next to Viktor.Viktor felt his chest swelling slightly at this small gesture, and looked down at her."This fool is Ivan Pashnik," he said.He wasn't joking, though she seemed to think he was.

She looked around at the others expectantly, and Viktor realized he should be introducing them.He told her the other students' names, and nodded lamely as Poliakoff and Razin introduced their partners, both girls from Hogwarts.

"Would you like to sit down?" Viktor asked.She nodded, and he led her over to a quiet corner.He wanted to get away from the others.He wondered how he would get through an entire ball with so many people around, when he really just wanted to spend the evening alone with her.

"It will be time to leave soon," he said, to have something to say.She nodded, smiling, and the words he really wanted to say came tumbling out."Thank you for agreeing to go to the ball with me."

She looked up quickly, seeming startled.Then she grinned and said, "And thank you for asking me."Viktor nodded.He wanted to think of something clever and witty to say, something that would make her laugh, or look at him with that same focused concentration she gave to her books.But he couldn't think of a thing.

It was something of a relief when Karkaroff called out that it was time for the group to go up to the castle.He had them form a line, with Viktor and his partner in front, and walk up toward Hogwarts.

The area in front of the castle had been transformed into some sort of fairy grotto for the occasion.Viktor hardly noticed, however, as the sensation of her arm linked in his was somewhat distracting.

The doors opened, and they entered.Viktor kept his eyes trained in front of him, ignoring the hundreds of eyes turned in their direction.

"Champions over here, please!" called a voice that Viktor recognized as Professor McGonagall's.Viktor led his partner over to her as the other students began filing towards the Great Hall.The other champions and their partners soon joined them.Viktor was just turning to ask his partner if she had ever heard the Weird Sisters play before, when she suddenly smiled brightly over his shoulder.

"Hi Harry! Hi Parvati!" she said.

Viktor turned around with a frown.Potter and his partner, a pretty Indian girl, were standing behind him, both looking very surprised about something.

Once the other students had moved into the Great Hall, Professor McGonagall had the champions and their partners line up and follow her in.Deafening applause accompanied them to the top table, where the tournament judges sat.Karkaroff was watching Viktor with narrowed eyes.Viktor pointedly ignored the look and hurried to pull out a chair for his partner.She looked a bit surprised at this gesture, but gracefully sat down.

Small silvery menus sat on the plates before them.Viktor, familiar with this method of ordering from events he had attended for his team, picked up the menu and looked down at his plate. "_Syrmi_," he said.And his favorite stuffed cabbage dish materialized on the golden plate before him.

She looked over at him and smiled."That looks good. The same," she said to her plate, and an identical meal appeared before her.She tasted it gingerly."It's nice."

Viktor felt a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.It seemed he liked her more every moment he was near her.

She looked down at her plate quickly, and Viktor realized he had been staring yet again.She looked up a moment later, however, and said brightly, "So, Viktor, I've been wondering, is it very different here from Durmstrang?"

Viktor nodded, almost fervently."Very different," he said

"How?" she said, looking as if she really wanted to hear the answer to the question.It was still hard to adjust to this genuine desire to hear what he had to say.

"Well," he began, "we have a castle also, not as big as this, nor as comfortable, I am thinking.We have just four floors, and the fires are lit only for magical purposes.But we have grounds even larger than these—though in winter, we have very little daylight, so we are not enjoying them."Viktor paused to take a breath; this was more than he had spoken in a long time."But in summer we are flying every day, over the lakes and the mountains—"

"Now, now, Viktor!" came Karkaroff's unctuous voice across the table, cutting him off."Don't go giving away anything else, now, or your charming friend will know exactly where to find us!"

Viktor scowled.He had wanted to tell her about the flying—about how wonderful it was to soar over the mountains and lose himself in the sky.But Karkaroff was now engaging in arrogant debate with Professor Dumbledore about school secrets.

She was looking over at Karkaroff with concern on her face.Viktor wanted to draw her attention away from Karkaroff's too-buoyant joviality, but he didn't know what to say.

"The flying," he said softly, "is the best part."She turned back to him, her face showing interest once again, and he stumbled through the story of how he had been chosen for the Bulgarian National Team.He wasn't sure what made him tell her about that.

As he finished the story, she smiled."That must have been a wonderful moment for you."

"It was," he said, looking into her eyes."You look lovely tonight, Hermione."

She winced, and Viktor leaned forward in concern."What is it?" he asked.

She went slightly pink."It's just that…well, my name is actually pronounced 'Hermione'," she said quietly.

Viktor frowned, irritated with himself."Hermione," he said, and he knew, this time, that he had mangled it.

She said it again, very slowly and clearly, and he tried repeating it after her.

"Close enough," she said with a smile, but her eyes were not on him.Viktor glanced over and saw that she was exchanging a grin with Potter.Viktor narrowed his eyes at the boy, but Potter had already looked away.

Viktor felt out of sorts after that, and was glad when the tables were cleared away and the dancing would begin.While he was not eager to lead off the dancing, it was dancing with _her_ that he had been looking forward to all day.Viktor was not a terrible dancer—his mother had made sure of that.As the music started, he took her hand and led her to the dance floor, where he moved closer and put his other hand at her waist.She was looking down, not meeting his eyes, and Viktor wondered if she felt the same sudden heat he did at this unaccustomed closeness.She smelled like a mixture of some kind of flower and…fresh parchment.It was an odd combination, but it suited her, somehow.

Finally, she met his eyes, but only held them for a moment before looking away across the dance floor.Viktor frowned as he saw her watching Potter and his partner.He pulled her slightly closer as other students began making their way onto the dance floor.

The slow song ended, and a faster one began.A tall redheaded boy and a black girl nearby began dancing so enthusiastically that Viktor, afraid his partner might get hit, steered her to a less crowded corner of the dance floor.

"Would you like a Butterbeer?" he asked her, as the song ended.

"Oh yes, please," she said, fanning herself with her hand."I'll go find us a table, all right?"

Viktor nodded and made his way over to the table of drinks in the corner.He had to wait in a bit of a line before he could get to the table and take two bottles of Butterbeer. Then he turned around and scanned the crowd to see where she—_Hermione_, he had to start thinking of her by name if he was ever going to get it right—had gone.

He didn't see her, but he did see Potter and her red-haired friend at a table on the other side of the dance floor.He made his way across to them, thinking that she would have wanted to sit with them.

But she wasn't there.Viktor paused for a moment, looking around, then went up to their table."Where is Hermione?" he asked.

Ron, the red-haired boy, looked up at him with a surprisingly unfriendly expression."No idea.Lost her, have you?" 

Viktor frowned.Was she trying to avoid him now?Had she told her friends not to tell him where she was?

"Well," he said curtly, "if you see her, tell her I have drinks."

Viktor walked away through the crowd, trying to avoid the flailing limbs.He didn't see her anywhere in the Great Hall, and he was beginning to think that he was being made a fool of.He slumped into an empty seat by the door and opened one of the Butterbeers.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Pashnik approaching._Of course_, he thought sarcastically, _just the thing I need._

Pashnik did an exaggerated double take."Viktor Krum, the famous Quidditch player, all alone at a ball?" he asked in a tone of mock disbelief.

Viktor ignored him.

"What happened to your partner?" Pashnik asked, making himself comfortable in the chair across from him.

Viktor grunted.

Pashnik then did something unexpected.He leaned forward with a serious look and said, "Truly, what happened?She ran out of here looking upset."

Viktor sat up quickly, concern flooding him."Where?" he demanded."Which way?"

Pashnik pointed toward the Entrance Hall.Viktor leapt up and went quickly toward the doors.There were a few students milling about in the Entrance Hall, but she was not among them.Viktor looked around indecisively for a moment, then went to the front doors and pushed them open.

She was there, perched on one of the rough stone steps._She must be freezing_, he thought; she had left her wrap inside.Her back was to him, and she seemed to be breathing heavily.

Viktor stepped outside and let the door fall shut behind him."Hermione?" he said, cursing the fact that he knew he was still mispronouncing her name.He meant to ask her what was wrong, but what came out instead was, "What are you doing out here?"

She turned to face him, and he thought her face looked a little red despite her smile."Oh, Viktor," she said in a strange voice as she got to her feet, "I'm sorry…it was just so stuffy in there…I came out here to get some fresh air.It's starting to get cold though…do you want to go back in?"

Viktor looked into her face.He was fairly certain that she wasn't being honest with him; despite her pleasant demeanor, her eyes were distracted, almost…sad.He wondered whether he should ask her what was wrong.But she didn't seem to want to share whatever it was with him.He felt a wave of disappointment roll through him, but he nodded and led her back into the castle.To his surprise, she steered him right over to a table where Pashnik and some of the other Durmstrang students were sitting.

She seemed different now.He wasn't exactly sure how.But she seemed more…determined to have fun.She made pleasant conversation about Quidditch and schoolwork, and even listened avidly as Pashnik described some of the more interesting things he had ever done with Fire Charms.Viktor watched this exchange, forgetting to be jealous of her diverted attention as he sat back and studied her.

Two of her friends came over to join them shortly afterwards.Viktor recognized the girl with red hair as one of the figures from the snowball fight he had observed earlier.The boy, whom she introduced as Neville, gave Viktor a frightened look when he shook his hand, and chose a seat on the far side of the table.When the two girls excused themselves for a moment, the boy instantly jumped to his feet and offered to get Butterbeer for the whole table.He didn't come back.

The moment that Viktor's partner and the red-haired girl were out of earshot, Pashnik leaned over to him."What was wrong?"

Viktor shook his head.

A slow smile spread across Pashnik's face."Lover's quarrel, eh?Heh heh heh."He nudged Viktor in the ribs with his elbow.

Viktor grunted and pushed him away in irritation.Edina put a restraining hand on Ivan's shoulder."Now, Ivan, don't tease," she said soothingly."Leave Viktor alone."

Pashnik grinned, then grabbed her hand and twirled her into his lap.She fell onto him with a shriek and began giggling.Pashnik whispered something to her that made her blush and giggle even harder.Viktor had to look away from their obvious closeness; it gave him a strange tightness in his throat.

Fortunately, the girls came back shortly after that, and Viktor and his partner—_Hermione_—spent the rest of the evening out on the dance floor.She seemed to enjoy the fast dances, though Viktor preferred it when he could hold her close during the slow songs.He only wished she had worn her hair down; he would have loved to have an excuse to touch it, as he had longed to do that day in the library.

The ball ended at midnight.As they moved with the crowd out of the Great Hall, Viktor suddenly wondered if he should kiss her goodnight.He wanted to, certainly…but no.Not here.Not in front of all these people.He _would_ kiss her, one day, if she let him.But not tonight.

He was, however, determined to let her know what this evening meant to him.He led her over to one side of the doors, out of the direct line of traffic, and stopped."I had a wonderful time, Hermione," he said softly, looking into her eyes.Those deep brown eyes.He took her hand and squeezed it.God, but he wanted to kiss her.

To his slight surprise, she smiled and squeezed his hand back."I did too. Thank you Viktor."She paused."I'll see you in the library?"

He smiled too—he could never seem to help it when he was around her; every smile of hers automatically elicited one from him in return."Yes.Goodnight, Hermione."

"Goodnight," she said, and he reluctantly let go of her hand and moved toward the front doors.He emerged from the castle into the crisp night and took a deep breath.The fresh air filled his lungs and he felt as if he could win a million Quidditch World Cups.

As Viktor made his way back to the Durmstrang ship, he remembered Karkaroff.There would be a price to pay for tonight, he knew.But he couldn't think about that right now.He didn't want to.He brought the fingers of his left hand to the palm of his right—the hand she had touched, she had squeezed. He could still feel the warmth of her hand in his.He wondered what she was doing at this very moment, whether she was thinking of him the way he was thinking of her.It seemed too much to hope, but, for the first time, Viktor allowed himself to consider the possibility.With a smile, he absently continued his walk, visions of her—_Hermione_—filling his head.


	5. Apart from Her

MSM 5

Author's Note: None of this belongs to me. This story is based on _Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire by J.K. Rowling and will feature "offstage scenes" as well as scenes from the book reinterpreted from Viktor's point of view. (This is a companion piece to "Hermione's Fourth Year".)_

Thanks to Jedi Boadicea, B. Bennett, and Zsenya for betareading.Special thanks to Jedi Boadicea and B. Bennett for sharing horrible potion ideas (yes, B., you can be nasty when you want to, I will concede that), and to Zsenya and Arabella for letting Viktor borrow their Recording Charm.

**Moody Slavic Man**

By Elanor Gamgee 

**Part 5: Apart From Her**

** **

Viktor allowed himself the rare pleasure of sleeping in the day after the ball.He knew he should be taking advantage of the quiet to get in some uninterrupted practice, but found that he wanted nothing more than to continue his half-formed dreams and memories of the night before.

However, an insistent knocking on his cabin door told him that it was not meant to be.Viktor groaned.

"What is it?" he called irritably, expecting to hear one of Pashnik's annoyingly cheerful greetings in return.

Instead, Dorek Landau's voice answered him, sounding smug."The Headmaster wishes to see you in his cabin immediately," he said.

Viktor frowned at Landau's tone; he sounded far too pleased.Viktor had never liked the boy, though he knew very little about him.All he really needed to know was how much Landau enjoyed Karkaroff's Dark Arts lessons.

Of course, Viktor didn't need to ask what Karkaroff wanted to see him about.He had been expecting this.Now he wondered vaguely what he should say.He had known there would be consequences to taking her to the ball, but he had been so concerned with the event itself that he hadn't spared a thought for how he would handle the aftermath.He gritted his teeth and swung himself out of bed.

"I am coming," he said curtly.

But Landau's voice came back at him through the door, more satisfied than ever."I am supposed to escort you to his cabin personally," he said, and Viktor could almost see the smug smile playing around his lips.Viktor didn't respond, but took his time pulling on his robes and finding his shoes.

He was somewhat pleased to hear the plaintive note in Landau's voice a few minutes later."Well, are you coming?"

Viktor pulled open the door abruptly and looked down at Landau, who was easily several inches shorter than he was.The other boy quickly covered his surprised look with a sneer."Come along," he said, turning away from Viktor and leading the way down the corridor.Viktor followed.

When they reached Karkaroff's cabin, Landau knocked smartly and called out, "I've got him, Headmaster."Viktor suddenly felt like some sort of prisoner, and he wondered exactly how bad this was going to be.He wasn't afraid of Karkaroff—it was difficult to be afraid of someone who was always acting so obsequiously towards you—but he suddenly recalled the rumors he had heard about Karkaroff's past, and wondered if he might have underestimated the man.

Karkaroff appeared in the doorway as the door was jerked open.He glared at Viktor."Excellent," he said darkly, "You may go, Landau."

Landau looked slightly disappointed as he turned and went back down the corridor.Karkaroff stood aside so that Viktor could enter the cabin.In contrast to his previous visits, Karkaroff did not ask him to sit down.So Viktor stood there awkwardly while Karkaroff made himself comfortable in the dragonhide-leather armchair.

"Did you enjoy yourself at the Yule Ball, Viktor?" Karkaroff finally said, his voice carrying the slightest hint of a threat.Viktor nodded.

Karkaroff eyed him closely."You _do_ know what that girl is, do you not?" he said disdainfully.Viktor said nothing, trying to ignore the sickening flash of anger in his stomach.

Karkaroff stood abruptly and walked toward Viktor."Viktor, Viktor," he said, the familiar unctuous note back in his voice now; he appeared to be trying a new tack."You are in a unique position.You must be very careful about the people with whom you associate. The reputation and honor of Durmstrang Institute is in your hands."Karkaroff was circling Viktor as he spoke, and Viktor felt for all the world like a mouse being eyed by a snake."Now, I understand that a young man sometimes needs...entertainment, and there is nothing wrong with a bit of fun with a girl like that..." Karkaroff looked at him expectantly, but Viktor remained silent.He didn't trust himself to speak.It was taking every bit of his strength and self-control not to punch Karkaroff where he stood.

Karkaroff resumed his circling."And I understand that the girl is a also a close friend of Harry Potter..." Suddenly he stopped and peered into Viktor face."Keeping tabs on the competition, is that it?"

Viktor's mind raced.It wasn't true, of course, and he would never use her like that.But if he allowed Karkaroff to think this, then maybe the Headmaster would leave him alone.And more importantly, maybe he wouldn't give her those disquieting glares whenever he saw them together.

Karkaroff was still peering into his face.Making his decision, Viktor met his gaze and raised his eyebrows slightly.Karkaroff apparently interpreted this gesture the way Viktor had hoped he would, as his face broke into a devious smile.He clapped Viktor on the back."Ah, Viktor!" he cried, suddenly jovial again."I knew there would be a reasonable explanation.Brilliant tactic."

Viktor turned his head, unable to look at those yellowed teeth bared in a smile any longer.It felt as though a lead weight had dropped into his stomach at the mere thought of using her to gain information for the Tournament.

Karkaroff cleared his throat pretentiously, drawing Viktor's attention back to him."As long as that is all there is to this..." he said warningly, his cold eyes boring into Viktor's.He paused for a long moment, and then said, "I trust we understand one another."

Viktor nodded._I understand_, he thought._I understand perfectly._

**********

He didn't have a chance to talk with her during the next week, though he spent nearly every afternoon of the holidays in the library, hoping to meet her there.At first, he wondered if he had done something wrong, but when she continued to smile at him whenever their eyes met in the Great Hall at mealtimes, he told himself that he was being silly; after all, it was the holidays, and she was probably just taking a break from her work.He knew that he would see her again when term started.So, on the day that classes resumed, he went straight to the library after dinner.

He was rewarded an hour later by the sight of a familiar mass of brown curls emerging from behind a row of bookshelves, barely visible over a stack of large, dusty books.Viktor smiled in relief, surprising even himself at how glad he was to see her.He waved her over to his table by the windows, and she smiled back before dumping her pile of books and sitting down breathlessly.

"Hello, Viktor," she said. "How are you?"

He looked up at her._Wonderful, now,_ he thought, but all he said was, "I am fine, Hermione.It is good to see you again."Her smile faltered the tiniest bit as he said her name, and he knew he was still mispronouncing it.But she was still smiling at him—this made it difficult to care about anything else.

She glanced out the window."Are you staying warm?" she asked."I suppose it's freezing on that ship."

Viktor was pleased to hear the concern in her tone—concern for him."I am accustomed to the cold," he reassured her."It is much colder in Bulgaria."He wondered fleetingly if she would enjoy the crisp mountain air of his homeland as much as he did."And Durmstrang Castle is always cold.We only light the fires when we need them for magic."

He saw her frown and shiver slightly.He wanted to move around to the other side of the table and put his arm around her, to keep her warm, but he didn't dare.He still wasn't sure how she would react to something like that.

So he went on, "I think I would like to have gone to Hogwarts instead. It is much nicer here."He peered anxiously at her, wondering if she understood exactly what he meant by this.It was difficult to tell, as she chose that moment to look down at the table.Viktor let out a frustrated breath.

After a moment, she asked, in an almost timid voice,"What...what don't you like about Durmstrang?"

Viktor stared at her for a moment, thrown by another of her unexpected questions.No one, not even his parents, had ever bothered to ask whether he even liked Durmstrang, let alone his reasons for feeling one way or the other.But here she was, looking up at him again, with that look of polite curiosity.

"Well," he began cautiously, "I am sure you have read about the classes..."

She nodded eagerly."Yes, I read in _An Appraisal of Magical Education in Europe_ that Durmstrang actually teaches the Dark Arts, not just Defense like we have here.Is that true?"

Viktor nodded, and her eyes went wide.He went on to describe his first lesson at the school, where a Suffocating Potion had left him gasping for breath while the other students had merely watched.Of course, that had been back before he had been chosen to train for the Vultures, before Karkaroff had begun to single him out for special treatment.

"And how does he treat you now?" she asked curiously.Viktor was sorry he had mentioned Karkaroff's name; he knew that she hadn't been blind to the looks Karkaroff had given them at the Yule Ball, and he was not about to tell her any of the things that Karkaroff had said to him on Boxing Day.Indeed, the memory of that conversation still made his blood boil. So he mumbled something about the other students resenting him and hurried to describe the dank, dark Durmstrang Castle to her, complete with graphic descriptions of the restless spirits that made Peeves the Poltergeist look as friendly as a Niffler.

"Oh!" she said suddenly, looking at her wristwatch."The library closes in a few minutes, and I haven't done any research on giants at all!"

"Giants?" Viktor asked, intrigued.He realized that he had been dominating the conversation, and hoped fervently that she wouldn't think he always complained so much.

"Oh, yes," she said, distractedly brushing her hair out of her eyes."Didn't you see the article in the _Daily Prophet_ about Hagrid?"Viktor shook his head, and she went on, her tone growing increasingly indignant."Well, that Rita Skeeter woman has printed another pack of lies, and this time it's about my friend Hagrid.She says he's half-Giant, and that he's a bloodthirsty murderer, and that Professor Dumbledore should sack him straightaway.And Hagrid is completely upset, and he's hiding in his cabin, and he won't even talk to me or Ron or Harry.It's ridiculous, really.But I wanted to do some research and see if I might find something to help him--"

"Is he really half-Giant?" Viktor asked, startled.He had seen the enormous gamekeeper on the grounds, but hadn't really thought about him much.

"Yes," she replied offhandedly, "but you can't blame him for not exactly advertising the fact, considering what's happened, can you?"

Viktor didn't reply.Karkaroff's words came back to him, "_You _do_ know what that girl is, do you not?"_Defending half-Giants?Maybe Karkaroff had been right after all...

He knew this thought was wrong the moment it entered his mind.But still, he couldn't help worrying about her.She had spoken quite affectionately about this Hagrid person, and he knew she considered him to be a good friend.But did she really have any idea what he was capable of?

This thought stayed with him as he carried her books up to the librarian's desk for her.And then he realized that he had a perfect opportunity before him.It was a beautiful clear night, and the library was deserted.He would ask her to go with him for a walk around the lake.Yes, that sounded very romantic.And perhaps, if they were alone together, just perhaps, he could kiss her.

She, however, seemed to have other plans.Once they were out in the corridor, she turned to him and said, "Thanks Viktor.I'll take them now—I have to go up to bed."

He was certain that his disappointment showed on his face, but he didn't know how to salvage the moment."Well, good night, Hermione," he said, not even caring, this time, whether he pronounced it correctly or not.

"Goodnight, Viktor.See you later, then," she said, turning and walking away from him down the dimly lit corridor.Viktor very much wanted to kick something, preferably himself.

**********

"Viktor," she whispered, leaning in close across the library table."Can I ask you something?"

"Yes," he said, staring into her eyes."Anything you like."

"Will you dance with me?"

Viktor stared at her, now in surprise, as she stood.She was wearing the blue robes she had worn to the Yule Ball, and he wondered why he hadn't noticed this before.She held out her arms to him.He stood as well, and saw her two friends sitting at a table nearby.They were both flipping through large, heavy books and taking notes.

"Ignore them," she whispered in his ear."Let's dance."

He turned and put his arms around her, and she moved into his embrace.Soft music was coming from somewhere, and they swayed in time to it.He reached up and ran his fingers through her hair, which was falling down around her shoulders.She looked up at him and smiled, and her eyes were soft.He bent down, closing the space between them—

Viktor's dream ended abruptly as he felt something cold and slimy in his nose.He sat up quickly and swatted away whatever it was.It took a few minutes for his eyes to adjust; it was still early, and there was only the barest hint of light coming in through the portholes.Finally he made out Belenko at the foot of his bed.The foul creature must have had its tongue up his nose again.Viktor rubbed at his nose furiously._Disgusting,_ he thought.

The Puffskein let out a satisfied hum and rolled right over onto the floor, setting a straight course for the open door._The thing must be able to open doors now too_, thought Viktor.Groaning, he stood up to close the door, and heard the telltale sound of running water in the distance.It sounded like they were in for another flood._Why can't Poliakoff keep that thing under control? _he thought angrily as he grabbed his wand and pulled on his maroon dressing gown.

A thin layer of water already covered the corridor.Viktor cast a few well-placed Drought Charms and moved toward the bathroom, following the still-humming Puffskein.By the time Viktor reached the bathroom, Belenko had somehow managed to perch atop the bathtub taps.The claw-footed tub was rapidly overflowing, sending water coursing down the sides and into the corridor.Belenko continued to hum happily, seemingly enjoying all the havoc she was causing.Viktor reached over to turn off the taps, then tried to grab the Puffskein, but Belenko rolled over and into the water, emitting a delighted squeak.Viktor sighed and knelt to plunge his hand in to grab the creature, but was arrested by the sound now coming from the water.It sounded like Belenko was still squeaking and humming under the surface, but the sound was refracted and strange.It reminded Viktor of something, but he couldn't place exactly what it was.Belenko suddenly bobbed to the surface and shook her fur.Viktor wiped his face absently and stared at the rippling surface of the water.That sound had been so familiar...it was almost like...wailing...

And then Viktor was on his feet, absently grabbing the sopping Puffskein in one hand.He raced back down the corridor to his room and picked up the Golden Egg. Maybe, if Belenko sounded different under water, then the egg would sound different there too.Viktor sank to his knees next to the tub and carefully lowered the egg inside.The sleeves of his robe were getting soaked, but he didn't care.Holding his breath, he carefully undid the clasp on the side of the egg.

All that came to Viktor's ears was a gurgling sort of music--it rather sounded like Pashnik gargling in the mornings.Viktor sat back on his heels and stared at the water.He had been so certain that he was onto something.But the noise coming from the egg was still completely unintelligible.Viktor glanced at the still-sodden Puffskein on the floor next to him.Unless...

Viktor leaned forward again and turned his head so that only his left ear was submerged in the water.After a moment or two, he was able to make out the words being sung by a chorus of distant voices:

_"Come seek us where our voices sound,_

_We cannot sing above the ground,_

_And while you're searching, ponder this:_

_We've taken what you'll sorely miss,_

_An hour long you'll have to look,_

_And to recover what we took,_

_But past an hour--the prospect's black_

_Too late, it's gone, it won't come back."_

Viktor sat up again, startled.He had done it.He had found the egg's secret.But what did it mean?

Viktor pulled out his wand and cast a Recording Charm on it.Then he stuck it under the water and put his ear to the surface again.After a few minutes, he removed his wand from the water and played back the song to make sure it had recorded properly.Now he could listen to it over and over without getting wet.

Viktor gathered up the egg and absently cast a few Drought Charms over the bathroom.He could pull out his book of Housekeeping Charms and really clean up later.Now, he had work to do.

Merpeople.Why hadn't he thought of them?He knew full well that their voices sounded screechy and that there was probably a whole community of them right here in the lake.He returned to his cabin and dumped the egg on his desk, then sprawled on his bed to listen to the song again._"An hour long"..._he'd have an hour to find...whatever it was they would take.He couldn't imagine what that would be_..."what you'll sorely miss"._He would have to worry about that part later.

An hour underwater.Yes, that was the thing to focus on.How could he spend an hour underwater without drowning?Viktor was a strong swimmer, but there was no way he could manage that.He supposed he could always use something simple, like the Bubble-Head Charm his mother and father had used when they had gone to explore the Great Barrier Reef last year.He knew he could do that easily, but that seemed too simple.He wanted to do…something more.

He suddenly remembered the excitement in _her_ eyes when he had told her about his Advanced Transfiguration.What if he turned himself into an animal that could go underwater?Not a fish—too small and not nearly impressive enough.A turtle?No.A frog?Viktor grimaced at the mental image of himself hopping into the lake.No, that wouldn't do at all.He needed something impressive and grand, something that would make her look up at him with those clear brown eyes.He closed his eyes and remembered her words about the World Cup: _"You really did fly well.It was very brave of you, catching the Snitch after your nose had been broken and all…"_

He opened his eyes as the answer came to him.A shark.That would get her attention.

Viktor's heart sank a little as he remembered his past unsuccessful attempts at human transfiguration.So far, the only thing he had managed was a raccoon, but that would hardly help him in the lake.But he could do this.For her, he would do this.

**********

The next few days passed rapidly, as Viktor spent every spare minute in the library, looking up anything that might help him transfigure himself into a shark for the second task.As his mother had promised, she and his father Apparated up to Hogsmeade on January 6, and Karkaroff gave Viktor special permission to meet them in the village for lunch.

Anna and Nikolas Krum were already seated at a table in the Three Broomsticks when Viktor walked in.As it was a weekday afternoon, the pub was not at all crowded.However, there were more than enough people for Viktor's taste.No sooner had he entered than he was set upon by two middle-aged witches begging him to sign their napkins.He would have liked to refuse, but, feeling his mother's eyes on him, he quickly scrawled his signature on the proffered bits of cloth and moved toward his parents' table.

His mother met him halfway and enveloped him in a tight hug."Viktor!It is so good to see you!" she said in Bulgarian.

"Hello, Mother," Viktor said, hugging her back.He nodded at his father over her shoulder.

He sat down, and his parents filled him in on the activities of all his relatives over lunch.

Finally his mother gave him a knowing smile."So," she said, "did you enjoy the ball?"

Viktor flushed.He had known that she would ask about that."Yes," he said quickly, looking down at his food.

"And the young lady..." she prompted."Did you bring us a picture?"

"No, Mother," Viktor said to his plate.

"Anna," said his father, "Leave the boy alone."

His mother gave his father a playful look."Now, Nikolas, I merely want to hear about what our son has been doing. And I want to know if this girl is good enough for our Viktor."She turned back to Viktor."You could invite her to visit this summer.I would like to meet her."

Viktor stared at his mother.He hadn't thought of that.But, despite his embarrassment at talking about this with his mother, he really did want his parents to meet her.And if she came to Bulgaria, maybe he would have a chance to show her all the things that he could give her, if she would let him.

"I will ask her if she would like to come," he said quietly, and his mother smiled at him.

The rest of his free time that week was spent in the library, but now he wasn't only looking for her.This was fortunate, as she rarely appeared.She was there on Friday, however, returning the pile of books she had taken out on Monday and getting a new batch.She carried the pile over to his table.He shoved _Spells for Any Ship: The Big Book of Maritime Sorcery_ under his Transfiguration textbook as she approached.

"Hi," she said with a smile."How are you, Viktor?"

"I am fine," he said."Please sit down."

"OK," she said, "but I can only stay for a bit.I've got loads of work to do."

Viktor looked down at the table in front of him and realized that the sheaf of parchment with his notes on shark transfiguration was still sitting in plain sight.He pushed it aside, casually turning over the top sheet.Part of him wanted to tell her about the second task, to share his anxiety with her.He was certain that she would understand.And she was so intelligent; perhaps she could even assist him.Viktor quickly pushed the thought away, remembering Karkaroff's words with a sick twist of his stomach.No, his relationship with her was totally separate from the Tournament, and he was going to keep it that way.So he asked about her classes, and kept the conversation light.But even as he listened to her describing the ancient Celtic runes she had decoded earlier that day, his mind drifted to the second task.He couldn't help picturing her, watching from the stands in impressed delight.Yes.For her, he could do this.

*********

Viktor stepped out into the wintry air and stood a moment, pleased that he wasn't shivering.Of course, the winters here were nothing like those in Bulgaria, but then, he didn't usually go around in swimming trunks back home either.This would be his fourth attempt to practice for the second task.With all the other students in Hogsmeade for the day, he hoped he would have a chance to do so without interruption; it was difficult enough for him to attempt this transformation without Pashnik leaning over the side of the ship, calling out terrible jokes involving bikinis and the Giant Squid.

Viktor checked that his wand was securely lodged in his waistband, then climbed up onto the side of the ship and dived into the lake.The water was so cold it took his breath away, but he swiftly surfaced and continued moving toward the center of the lake.Gritting his teeth, he pulled out his wand and pointed it at himself, trying to concentrate and tread water at the same time.He took a deep breath and said, _"Mutare Pistrix!"_

He felt the change at once, as his face began to lengthen and his teeth sharpened to fine points.He plunged his head into the water and allowed his newfound gills to do their work.This much he had managed before.Viktor waited, praying that he had gotten it right this time.His heart gave a jubilant leap as he felt his arms slam to his sides, gradually changing into fins.He could no longer tread water; his legs were coming together, meshing into the shark's sleek body—

And then, without warning, something grabbed his foot, pulling him deeper into the lake and completely shattering his concentration.Viktor flailed furiously, trying to shake off whatever it was.He saw his wand floating before his eyes and realized with annoyance that he could reach for it; his arms were moving freely by his sides again.He grabbed his wand and pointed it downward just as he was able to make out what was holding his ankle.A Grindylow.He should have known.He had heard that there were quite a few of them in the lake, but he hadn't realized that he was that far out.

Viktor kicked furiously at the creature.He realized, with a sudden panicked jolt, that he couldn't breathe.His head had transformed back as well.With a surge of irritation at being interrupted when he was so close to his goal, Viktor heaved himself up through the water, dragging the Grindylow with him.As his face broke the surface, he gulped in a huge amount of air and pointed his wand downward, shouting, _"Relashio!"_The creature immediately let go, and Viktor swam quickly back toward the Durmstrang ship.

"That was foolish," he muttered angrily at himself.He couldn't afford to be so careless.He would have to start the transformation in the shallower parts of the lake.

But, he thought with something approaching a smile, he had almost done it.If he hadn't been distracted…

He would just have to concentrate harder, he decided as he pulled himself onto the shore and into the frigid air.He must let nothing distract him; that was all there was to it.

*****************

Viktor continued to practice the shark transfiguration whenever he could, usually in the early morning hours previously reserved for his solo flights.By the beginning of February, he was able to complete the transformation nearly every time he tried it.This was fortunate, because he now had a new distraction to think about.

It began when Pashnik flopped into a chair next to him at breakfast one morning, sighing dramatically.Viktor merely gave him a half-puzzled, half-annoyed look, but Pashnik straightened up and answered as if Viktor had spoken.

"For Edina," he said in a low voice."I do not know whether I should send her flowers or singing fairies."

Viktor's confusion must have showed on his face, because Pashnik sighed impatiently."Valentine's Day is next Tuesday, Viktor.Were you even planning to do anything for your…friend?"Viktor felt his face flush as Pashnik grinned wickedly.

Viktor looked quickly over at the Gryffindor table, where she was absorbed in serious conversation with her friends.He hadn't seen much of her lately; every time he went to look for her, she was in the library with Potter and the other boy, studying.She had told him, in a flustered, apologetic sort of way, that she had loads of work just now, and he'd understood.After all, he himself had been working hard on his preparation for the second task, so he knew about being busy.

But Valentine's Day…he had never thought about it before, had never had reason to.And the holiday seemed to generate much more excitement here than it had back home.But he wondered, now, what it would mean to her to receive something special on Valentine's Day.He was suddenly grateful to Pashnik for drawing his attention to this.

"…to give Edina?" Pashnik was saying.

"What?" Viktor asked abruptly, turning back to him.

"I said, which do you think would be better to give Edina?" Pashnik said emphatically.

Viktor shook his head."It will not make a difference what you give her," he said distractedly."What do girls expect for things like this?"

"Oh, cards, flowers, candy, things like that," said Pashnik, waving his hand dismissively."What do you mean, it will not make a difference?"

Viktor rolled his eyes."She will like whatever _you_ give her," he said, his thoughts still on the question of what to do about this holiday."Cards?With poetry and that sort of thing?"He was remembering, with a horribly apprehensive feeling, some of the cards he had received over the past few years.He certainly hoped he wouldn't be expected to write anything like _that_.

Pashnik wasn't answering, though.He was staring at Viktor in surprise. 

"What?" Viktor asked defensively.

Pashnik shook his head slightly, and a smile spread slowly across his face.It was an unusual smile for Pashnik; it bore little resemblance to the exaggerated grin Viktor was used to from him."Nothing," he said, still smiling and giving Viktor an odd look.Then Pashnik's gaze fell on someone behind Viktor, and Viktor knew without turning around that Edina must have entered the hall.Pashnik stood up abruptly, the smile on his face growing wider.

"Just tell her how you feel," he said distractedly.Viktor was not sure whether this last bit of advice was directed towards him, or whether Pashnik was talking to himself.In any case, Pashnik moved down the table and situated himself next to Edina.

Viktor finished his breakfast in silence, wondering how he would handle this.He knew he had to give her something.He wanted to.He wanted her to have everything a woman was supposed to have on Valentine's Day.

Suddenly he remembered her face when he had given her the flowers before the Yule Ball, and knew he must give her flowers again.And a card—perhaps he could find a spell to make her a spectacular card, one that sang, or…

No.No, she would appreciate something simple.Something heartfelt.Viktor's stomach gave a lurch.Yes.He would tell her how he felt.That would be enough.

**********

Viktor spent the rest of the week trying to compose a letter to her.Though he knew how he felt, it was difficult to put it down on paper.It felt so…public, somehow, even though this paper was for her eyes only.Finally, by the following Monday, he settled on a final version:

Dear Hermione, 

I told you once that it is much nicer here at Hogwarts than it is at Durmstrang.I would not be honest if I did not tell you that meeting you has been what has made it so much nicer.I hold the time we have spent together close to my heart, and I hope that we will have many more moments together.You are truly beautiful and intelligent.I have never felt this way before about anyone else.

Happy Valentine's Day

Love, 

Viktor

He planned to send this to her via owl at the lunch table the next day, accompanied by a large box of red roses.He imagined the amazed look on her face as she opened the letter.In his vision, she jumped up and ran across the Great Hall into his arms.

Viktor shook his head to clear it.It was silly of him, to think such things.Besides, one of those dazzling smiles directed at him across the Great Hall would be enough.

The next morning, however, his plans changed quite abruptly.As he crossed the Entrance Hall on his way to breakfast, he found himself behind two red-haired figures, one of whom he recognized as the Gryffindor girl who had sat at their table at the Yule Ball.

"…anything for Hermione?" the girl was saying, immediately catching Viktor's attention.He tried not to eavesdrop too obviously, yet stay close enough to hear.

The other person turned to her with a repulsed look on his face, and Viktor saw that it was the unfriendly red-haired boy, _her_ friend.He seemed offended at whatever the girl—she must be his sister, Viktor realized—had said."No way!"he said."I _had_ to give you a card, you're my sister.Anyway, Hermione doesn't like all that girly stuff."

The girl just shrugged and continued into the Great Hall.The boy followed her, and, as he went through the doorway and turned toward the Gryffindor table, he caught sight of Viktor behind him.Viktor thought the boy flashed him a dirty look before he turned away, but he couldn't be sure.

In any case, Viktor was too distracted by his sudden self-doubt to process anything properly.Had he been wrong to think that she would enjoy being the center of attention today?Would he embarrass her?

Viktor remembered the heartfelt words he had written.Was it too much?Would she think he was being insincere?

A squeal rang out from the Ravenclaw table and Viktor watched as a dark-haired girl held up some sort of jewelry and threw her arms around the boy next to her.Viktor's eyes strayed to the Gryffindor table and found _her._She was sitting with a book propped in her lap, a piece of toast in one hand, looking over at the girl who had squealed with a baleful expression.

And Viktor knew that he could not send her that letter.

**********

Viktor sat on his bed that evening, staring down at the letter he had so carefully composed._Useless_, he thought, crumpling it into a ball with his fist.

But it hadn't been a total loss.He had still sent her a Valentine, a simple heart that said:

Dear Hermione 

Happy Valentine's Day

From 

Viktor Krum

And she had still smiled at him across the hall, but it hadn't been quite what he had pictured.

Viktor stood abruptly and lobbed the crumpled-up parchment into the empty grate.He _would_ tell her how he felt, he decided.But not like this, not showing off with some stupid holiday that only idiots like Pashnik took seriously.

She would see, when he competed in the second task.She would see how impressive he could be.And then he would tell her those things.

Viktor suddenly realized that he hadn't practiced his transfiguration in over a week.He frowned at himself and vowed to get up early the next morning to go over it again.There were only nine days left until the task; he could not afford to get lazy now.On February the twenty-fourth, he would be ready to transform, ready to retrieve whatever it was that would be taken.

Viktor frowned again and leaned back on his bed.He had nearly forgotten about that bit, so caught up had he been in learning the transfiguration.But now he went over the words in his mind:

_"And while you're searching, ponder this:_

_We've taken what you'll sorely miss…"_

_"What you'll sorely miss."_Viktor cast around, trying to think what that might be.His broomstick?Perhaps…but he could always get another.Goodness knew he had splintered enough of them back when he had been learning the Wronski Feint; he had quickly learned not to get attached to his equipment.Viktor looked around his cabin, wondering what it could possibly be.On his desk, his quill was scratching out replies to a stack of Valentine's Day fan mail—Viktor certainly wouldn't miss _that_; in fact, he rather relished the though of it being abducted by Merpeople.His eyes traveled over his sparsely furnished cabin and found nothing he couldn't live without.Then his eyes fell on the crumpled parchment in the grate and he froze.

There was nothing here he would miss…

…apart from _her_.

Her face floated to the front of his mind and Viktor sat up abruptly, his heart suddenly racing.They wouldn't…they couldn't.But what if…what if…the "something" in the poem was really "someone"?Even as the blood pounded in his ears at the very idea, a detached, rational part of his mind told him that it would be effective; after all, it would certainly motivate the champions to retrieve what they lost.

Viktor hastily went over the rest of the poem in his head.

_"An hour long you'll have to look,_

_And to recover what we took,_

_But past an hour--the prospect's black_

_Too late, it's gone, it won't come back."_

_ _

What if he didn't get to her within an hour?What would happen?Viktor leaned his forehead on his palms, trying to breathe normally.And then he realized that he was being stupid.The judges had put all those safety restrictions on the Tournament.Surely they wouldn't let anything happen to her.

But he didn't intend to take any chances.He pulled out his swim trunks.


	6. Rescuing Her

Moody Slavic Man Part 6: Rescuing Her

Author's Note: None of this belongs to me. This story is based on _Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire by J.K. Rowling and will feature "offstage scenes" as well as scenes from the book reinterpreted from Viktor's point of view. (This is a companion piece to "Hermione's Fourth Year".)_

Something weird happened when I posted Part 4 and it got posted twice (as Chapters 4 and 5), so I don't think the Author Alert ever went out properly for Part 5.If you haven't read that yet, please go read it first, or what follows will make very little sense. J

Special thanks to Jedi Boadicea and Arabella for talking me through various parts of this chapter.Thanks also to smoke and Vee for helping with the Latin translation.For betareading, I give monstrous thanks once again to Zsenya and Arabella.

**Moody Slavic Man**

By Elanor Gamgee 

**Part 6: Rescuing Her******

** **

Viktor pushed open the library doors and moved inside.There she was, at a table with Potter and the other boy.All three of them were bent over thick books, and didn't look up at the sound of the door swinging shut behind him.Viktor stood there uncertainly for a moment, wondering whether he should approach her, and then felt the librarian's curious stare upon him.He tore his gaze away from the table and walked quickly over behind a row of bookshelves, where he didn't feel quite so exposed.

Viktor removed a few books from a shelf at his eye level so that he could see her table.She was still bent over a book, running her quill down the page with an absorbed look on her face.He knew that, had he been a bit closer, he would have seen her lips pursed together in concentration.

Viktor sighed inwardly.He knew he shouldn't be here.He shouldn't be bothering her when she was so busy.But he hadn't had a real talk with her in weeks, and today, he had just felt…he needed to check on her.Ever since he had realized that she might have a role in the second task, his Transfiguration practices had been fueled with a new sense of urgency.The task would take place the following morning.He knew that it was unlikely she would be in any real danger, but the thought of her going through anything unpleasant because of his feelings for her left him with a slightly sick sensation.Maybe he had come here today to reassure her…or maybe he had come to reassure himself.

Viktor watched as she shut the book she was holding and got to her feet.She said something to her friends, moved an enormous stack of books to an empty table, and then set off down a row of bookshelves.

Viktor's heart rose.Maybe he would have a chance to talk to her after all.He quietly moved to the end of the aisle and across the back of the library, looking down each row of bookshelves to see if she was there.

He found her in the very back corner of the library, in the Charms section.She was halfway down the aisle, standing on her tiptoes and reaching for a book on the top shelf.

Viktor stepped up behind her and pulled the book from the shelf.She spun around quickly and crashed into him, losing her balance.Instinctively, Viktor grasped her arm to steady her.She looked up at him with a startled expression, then straightened quickly and took a small step backwards.

Viktor let go of her arm reluctantly.It had been an oddly thrilling sensation, having her lean against him like that; it made him think of dancing with her at the Yule Ball.

She was looking at him now, waiting for him to speak, and Viktor struggled for something normal to say.Then he remembered the book in his hand, and offered it to her."Your book," he said, attempting a smile.He wished, for a moment, that he could handle these sorts of awkward situations the way Pashnik did, with an easy grin and a joke.

"Oh!Thanks!" she said a bit breathlessly, taking the book from him and staring down at it.He wondered briefly at her choice of reading material—_Hexes That Perplex Us?_What on earth was she studying?—but then he glanced at the top of her head, all that was visible as she continued to look down at the book in her hands, and he remembered why he was here.He had to let her know, somehow, that she was going to be fine—that, no matter what happened the next morning, he would come for her.

But he didn't know how to begin.Finally, he burst out, "I have missed our talks."

She fidgeted slightly, then looked up at him. "Well, you know," she said, "I've been really busy with schoolwork…Ron and Harry too…"

Viktor frowned; this wasn't going the way he'd planned at all.He glanced at the window.It was a bright, clear afternoon.Maybe if he took her for a walk around the lake…maybe if he got her out of this place, then they could really talk.

Viktor took a deep breath and looked her in the eye."It is a beautiful afternoon," he said, his voice low. "Would you like to go for a walk with me?"

She looked startled, and glanced back along the row of bookshelves—back, Viktor realized, to where her friends were sitting."Er…no, I'm sorry, I can't.We...I mean, I've got so much work to do, I really can't right now…maybe another time?"Her tone was genuinely apologetic, but Viktor couldn't help frowning.How was he ever going to tell her what he needed to say?

He found himself nodding, saying, "Of course.Another time."He hadn't wanted to say this at all, but he couldn't seem to help giving her whatever she wanted.

She gave him a half-smile."Well, see you later then," she said, turning away from him.Viktor watched her with a sinking feeling as she went down the aisle and around the corner.How did he ever think he was going to succeed at this task, when he couldn't even tell her what he had come to say?He stood staring at the place where she had disappeared, then turned and made his way along the back wall of the library, emerging from behind the row of bookshelves where he had watched the table earlier.He saw her sitting once again at the table with her friends.He caught her eye and nodded, and received a brief smile in return.In spite of himself, he felt a sudden warmth flow through him at the smile, even though she looked away quickly as Potter spoke up and drew her attention onto himself.

Viktor scowled and exited the library.He moved down the corridor, toward the castle doors.Now what was he supposed to do?He had been sure that seeing her would alleviate his nerves, but now he only felt worse.He hadn't managed to really talk with her at all.But he knew that her schoolwork was important to her—after all, wasn't that one of the things that had attracted him to her in the first place?_But what could be so important today? _He felt a small flash of resentment.What had she and her friends been working on, that she couldn't even take a short break to spend some time with him?After all, _he _had been focused on nothing but preparing for this task, to save her…

Viktor froze on the stone steps outside the castle._Had_ she been helping _Potter?_Was that the reason she had been working so hard lately, and had been so eager to get back to her friends?

Viktor shook his head and continued walking, disgusted with himself for thinking such a thing.She would never cheat—he knew that.In fact, he thought with a wince, he sincerely hoped she would never find out about the warning he had received from Karkaroff before the first task.He felt sure she would never approve.

_Perhaps it is better that I could not talk to her properly_, he thought._Perhaps she would consider even that much cheating…_

But that still didn't lessen the sick feeling in his stomach as he thought of her, taken by the merpeople for him to rescue.There had to be a way he could reassure her without saying too much.

He would write to her, he decided as he reached his cabin.He would tell her what he needed to say, without giving away specifics.Yes, that would work.

Viktor pulled out a piece of parchment and a quill, and sat down at his desk.The quill hovered over the parchment for several minutes as he thought, and then he finally began writing.

Dear Hermione,

I am writing to tell you that everything will be fine.No matter what happens, I will come for you. Do not worry.

He agonized for a bit over the signature before finally writing 

Love, 

Viktor

He planned to tell her all those things after the second task anyway, he reasoned.What difference would it make to say that now?

Viktor rolled up the parchment and took it up on deck to the ship's small Owlery, an open pavilion where the owls liked to shelter.He found one of his own owls, a large gray one, and tied the parchment to its leg."Urgent," he muttered, "Take it right away."

The owl gave him a piercing look, and then took flight.Rather than setting a straight course for the castle, the owl soared up toward the topmast and circled in the breeze._Probably just enjoying stretching its wings_, Viktor thought.He could understand that.He thought of his many missed morning flights with a pang, and resolved to get up early and fly the next morning before the task.He was as prepared as he could be.He was ready.Smiling, he pictured himself pulling her from the water, and her looking at him gratefully.He would ask her to visit him in Bulgaria tomorrow.He would tell her exactly how he felt.

*************************************

The water in the lake was murky—Viktor didn't remember it ever being so murky during his practice sessions.But he was doing fine.He had managed the transformation without any problems, and was now slicing through the water towards the center of the lake.He couldn't see any of the other champions anywhere.

A shape loomed up ahead of him, and, as he moved closer, he saw that it was a rock formation that jutted straight up out of the lake bottom like a sword.It was almost like a signpost, except that there were no signs telling him which way to go.Viktor paused, allowing his shark body to sink a bit in the water as he considered.Which way should he go now?

And then he heard it, unmistakable and clear.A voice._Her_ voice."Viktor!" she called distantly from his right."Viktor!"

Viktor sped off to the right of the rock towards the sound. She was there—he had to find her. He cut through the water smoothly, heading directly for the sound drawing him on.Her voice rang through the water, calling his name over and over again.

The sound seemed so close now, yet he didn't see her.Where was she?He turned around frantically, straining the shark's tiny eyes in all directions.And then he looked straight down.

He could just make her out, inside what looked like an enormously deep pit in the lake bottom.She was standing and waving to him, beckoning him wildly.Viktor dived down to her, and saw, as he approached, that two other figures were with her.Her two friends.Of course.They were never far away, it seemed.The two boys were sitting on a rock, chatting unconcernedly and not seeming to even notice that they were underwater.

She beamed at him as he swam down next to her."You came!" she said delightedly."I wanted to show you this new spell I learned. It's a love charm." She pulled an enormous book out from her robes and began flipping through the pages.

"Hermione," said Viktor, knowing he was pronouncing it correctly this time."We need to leave."He didn't know how he managed to speak in the shark's form, but she seemed to understand him.She looked up at him and smiled.

"All right," she said, turning to her friends."Come on, we're leaving."The two boys stood up and came to stand next to her, looking at Viktor expectantly.

Viktor looked from her to her friends uncertainly.She smiled at him again."You'll have to take all three of us," she said sweetly.

Viktor reached out his fins and put them around her, but they had become arms now.He lifted her and began swimming.The two boys grabbed his tail as he swam up out of the pit, weighing him down.Involuntary, he jerked, remembered the Grindylow he had encountered in his practice session.One of the boys slipped and floated back down into the pit.She shrieked in his ear.Viktor jerked again, not meaning to—or did he?—and the second boy went spiraling off through the water, back down into the pit.

"No!" she screamed, beating her fists against him."Go back!We have to go back!I'll miss them the most!"And she tore herself out of his grasp, diving back into the pit toward the boys.

Viktor called out her name, but no matter how many times he tried, he couldn't pronounce it right.She dove without looking back, ignoring his calls, until she was completely lost to his sight.

He looked down and saw a book in his hands, the one she had pulled from her robes.The cover was dark and slimy.He wiped away the grime, and read the gilt lettering: _Amicitia Amoris Certissima Pars._He stared at it the phrase, sure that he knew what it meant, and yet unable to decipher it.

Viktor sat up in bed with a jolt.The barest hint of dawn was shining in through the portholes.Viktor struggled to hold on to the images in his dream, but they slipped away before he could fix them in his memory.He was left with an inexplicable feeling of unease as he turned over and fell back into a shallow sleep.

**********************************

Viktor eyed the platters of eggs, bacon, and sausage in front of him with disgust.He felt quite certain that he would not be able to eat a thing this morning.He had wakened early to spend some time flying, thinking that it would calm his nerves, but he still felt tense and anxious.This was much worse than any pre-match nerves he had ever experienced playing Quidditch.

"The day has arrived!" sang out a familiar voice, and Pashnik dropped into the chair next to him.Edina was right behind Pashnik, and sat down on his other side.The two of them had been nearly inseparable ever since Pashnik had sent her elaborate bunches of flowers and singing fairies during every one of her classes on Valentine's Day.

Viktor sighed, reminding himself that he really must stop leaving empty seats next to him at the table.

Pashnik leaned over to him conspiratorially."Nervous?" he said in a mock-serious tone.Viktor merely gave him a look.Pashnik grinned and started piling food on his plate.

Viktor looked at the sausages again, wondering if he could manage to eat one without throwing up.He heard his mother's voice in his head: _Viktor, eat!You need your strength!_He knew it was true.

At that moment, Edina looked up from the whispered conversation she had been having with Pashnik and said, "Viktor, eat something! You need a good breakfast today."

Viktor stared at her in surprise.She rarely, if ever, spoke to him, so hearing an order like that was especially odd.It was almost as if his mother was speaking to him through Edina.

Edina, however, was holding out a platter to him with an expectant, almost fierce, expression on her face, so Viktor thought it best to take a few slices of toast without complaint.Edina nodded in satisfaction, and Viktor saw Pashnik grinning at her.

Viktor chewed his toast thoughtfully as the two of them returned to their hushed conversation.The noise in the Great Hall was mounting steadily, and there was a palpable excitement in the air.Viktor wished he could share in it.

He looked over at the Gryffindor table, but she wasn't there.Viktor's stomach knotted, though he had known that she wouldn't be there, hadn't he?His eyes swept the length of the Gryffindor table, and he noted with dismay that Potter and the red-haired boy appeared to be absent as well.For some reason, this fact made him uneasy.Something niggled at the back of his brain—what was it?

"Ladies and gentlemen," boomed the Hogwarts Headmaster's voice from the front of the hall.Viktor looked down and realized that the plates had wiped themselves clean.He stuffed the last bit of toast he was holding into his mouth and turned to face Dumbledore with everyone else.

"In a few moments, it will be time for us to go watch the second task of the Triwizard Tournament."A storm of cheering and clapping greeted this announcement.Dumbledore waited for it to subside. "I must now ask the champions to follow Mr. Bagman down to the site of the task.If you would, Mr. Krum, Miss Delacour, Mr. Diggory, Mr. Potter—" Dumbledore's eyes fell on the Gryffindor table, and he frowned slightly.No one else seemed to notice this, as they were too busy applauding the three champions who were making their way to the back of the hall.

Viktor tried to ignore all the people watching him as he approached Mr. Bagman, who was beaming at the three of them.Mr. Bagman led the champions out into the Entrance Hall, talking all the way.

"…this is exciting, isn't it?This is going to be a show, no doubt of that.Now, now, where is Harry?"He stopped and looked around expectantly, as though he thought one of them was hiding Potter in their robes.No one said anything.Fleur Delacour looked around with a haughty smile, while Diggory looked slightly concerned.

Bagman's face fell."Well," he said, now sounding distracted, "well…I suppose we'll just have to go down there…perhaps he'll turn up…"He turned and led the three of them out through the front doors and down toward the lake.They passed the Durmstrang ship and continued around to where the lake widened.Enormous stands had been set up for the spectators, and Viktor idly wondered what, if anything, the crowd would be able to see during the task.Bagman stopped in front of a gold-draped table with several benches set up next to it.

"I see that none of you are surprised to find yourselves here," said Bagman with a chuckle, looking around at them."I take it you all worked out the clues in your golden eggs.But I think we will have a surprise for each of you today."

Viktor clenched his jaw, more certain than ever that he had been correct about what had been taken.Fleur Delacour, however, tossed her hair and gave Bagman an indulgent smile."Meester Bagman, don't be silly._We_ know what we are doing."

Viktor looked over at Diggory, who was watching the lake with a serious expression.He wondered briefly whether any of the other champions had come to the same conclusion he had.

Bagman took out a large gold pocket watch decorated with a raised wasp on the front and opened it."The judges and the spectators will be here in a few minutes.We'll go over the instructions before the task starts.Now, where is Mr. Potter?"Bagman wandered off, muttering under his breath.

Fleur Delacour seated herself on one of the benches and idly twirled her wand between her fingers. Diggory looked over at Viktor and grinned.

"Nice of him to give us so much information," he said, nodding toward Bagman's retreating back.Viktor nodded in response.Diggory frowned."I wonder where Harry is, though," he said."It's weird that he's not here."

Viktor grunted.He didn't much care where Potter was, as long as he wasn't—Viktor felt another prickle of unease, and pushed it away with a frown.He became aware that Diggory was giving him an odd look, and he straightened up and cast around for something to say.

"I heard about the Transfiguration you did during the first task," said Viktor."I was told that you did well."

Fleur Delacour stopped twirling her wand and flashed a dazzling smile at Diggory."I heard zat it was vairy impressive," she purred, causing Diggory to turn pink.

"Well, it didn't work as well as it could have," he said to Viktor."Not like you with the Conjunctivitis Curse—I wish I had thought of that—or Harry on his broomstick…oh look, here they come!"Diggory pointed up toward the castle.

Viktor turned and saw masses of people coming toward the lake.He realized with a jolt that he should be preparing.He stretched his arms high above his head, the way he did before matches, hoping it would help alleviate the sick feeling in his stomach.It didn't.

People were pouring into the stands now, and the sound of the crowd was almost deafening.Viktor saw the judges taking their places at the table with the golden cloth.Karkaroff was eyeing him with an inscrutable expression.Viktor looked away quickly and began taking off his robes.He was wearing his swim trunks underneath.

Viktor could still feel Karkaroff's eyes on him as he folded his robes and placed them on the bench, but a moment later, his attention was diverted by Bagman.The round-faced man hurried forward, muttering something about Potter under his breath, then tapped his throat with his wand, saying "_Sonorus!_"His voice blared out across the lake, and the crowds in the stands quieted to listen.

"Ladies and gentlemen!" Bagman bellowed. "Welcome to the second task of the Triwizard Tournament!Our champions are in for a real challenge today!As you may remember, each champion obtained a golden egg in the first task.Inside each of those eggs was the clue to the second task.Today we will see just how well each champion deciphered the clues and prepared for the task!"The crowd cheered with excitement, and Bagman smiled broadly before going on."Each champion's task is very specific: to take back what was taken from him or her by the merpeople, the thing that each champion will miss the most.I will now announce what each champion must retrieve."

Viktor shifted slightly.He hadn't realized that Bagman was going to announce this in front of everyone, though he supposed he should have.The man seemed to adore drama of all kinds.Viktor glanced at the other two champions beside him, wondering if they realized what was coming.

"Miss Delacour," Bagman pronounced, "will be attempting to rescue her sister, Gabrielle Delacour."Fleur Delacour stared at Bagman in horror, her earlier composure completely lost.Bagman continued, "Mr. Diggory will be attempting to rescue fellow Hogwarts student Cho Chang."The crowd, which had previously lapsed into a sort of shocked silence, now burst into giggles and catcalls.Diggory, however, was looking at Bagman blankly, as though he didn't believe what he was hearing."Mr. Krum," Bagman went on, "will be attempting to rescue Hogwarts student Hermione Granger."

Even though he had known it, even though he had figured it out ten days ago, Viktor insides still gave a lurch to hear it announced like that.Viktor nodded and stared down at his wand, trying to ignore the "ooohs" and "awwws" coming from the stands, as well as the piercing look that he knew that Karkaroff was directing at him.

It was something of a relief when Bagman continued."And Mr. Potter," he said, looking around hopelessly, "if he should decide to join us…er…yes, well, perhaps he'll turn up.Anyway, Mr. Potter will be attempting to rescue fellow Hogwarts student Ronald Weasley."The crowd really did go wild at this, bursting into laughter and even more boisterous catcalls.Bagman raised his hand, and the sound died out."Right then, well, each champion will have to rescue his or her hostage in—" Viktor cringed at the choice of word."Oh, I say, what's this?" said Bagman suddenly."Oh, right-oh, it's Mr. Potter!"

Viktor turned to see Potter sprinting down the wide sloping lawn toward the lake.His robes billowed out behind him, and his hair was sticking up at odd angles.He looked like he had just woken up.

"_Quietus_," Bagman muttered behind Viktor as Potter came to a stop, splattering mud everywhere.

One of the judges—the one taking Mr. Crouch's place—said something to Potter that Viktor didn't catch.He was too busy trying to figure out why he felt relieved to see Potter there.Viktor frowned to himself.What was wrong with him this morning?

He didn't have time to dwell on it, however, as Bagman was now directing the champions to stand at intervals along the bank.Viktor took a deep breath and held his wand ready.He knew he could do this.He had to.

Bagman tapped his throat with his wand again, saying "_Sonorus." _His magically magnified voice rang out over the lake once more. "Well, all our champions are ready for the second task, which will start on my whistle.They have precisely an hour to recover what has been taken from them.On the count of three, then.One…two…_three!_"

And the whistle sounded through the cold morning air.The crowd's cheering faded as Viktor plunged into the lake, the icy water clearing his mind immediately.He knew what he had to do, and he was determined to do it.

Viktor swam out a little way, surfaced, and then turned his wand on himself. "_Mutare Pistrix!" _he said, concentrating with all his might.He held his breath for a moment, then with relief felt the familiar lengthening of his head.He heard gasps coming from the stands, but they faded quickly as he plunged his head back under the water.He tucked his wand into the waistband of his swimming trunks—he had learned, after the incident with the Grindylow, not to let go of it so easily.His legs and arms were snapping to his sides now, smoothing into the shark's sleek body.He had done it.

Viktor felt a wave of triumph as he plunged forward through the water.Now, he only had to find the mer-village.He had done some research, and had decided that the village must lie far out near the part of the lake that skirted the Forbidden Forest.He headed in that direction, letting the shark's heightened senses guide him through the water.

He swam through what looked like an underwater meadow, filled with some green weed.He could see a few Grindylows moving far below him, but none of them approached.If Viktor still had his tongue, he would have stuck it out at them as he passed overhead.His heart felt lighter than it had all morning.

Viktor continued swimming in a straight line, passing over a wide muddy plain.Here and there glittering stones winked up at him from the much-covered bottom.Schools of silver fish scattered as he approached.

Suddenly a long tentacle came out of nowhere and wrapped around his middle.Viktor found himself being turned this way and that through the water.He caught a glimpse of two enormous green eyes, and knew immediately that he had fallen into the clutches of the giant squid.

Viktor had never seen the creature before, but he had heard about it.Draco Malfoy had held forth for an entire meal about the dangers of the giant squid, warning the Durmstrang students to stay away from it.Supposedly, it had eaten an unfortunate first-year student the year before.At the time, Viktor had been doubtful about these claims, but now, in the creature's grip, he believed every word.

He had to get to his wand, and the only way to do that was to transform back.He focused his concentration as best he could while being spun through the water like a top.Slowly, his back fins turned into feet.Then he could feel his legs emerging, and the change moved up his body with rapid tingle.His stomach and chest were back to normal now, and he could feel his wand in the waistband of his swimming trunks where he had left it.The squid's tentacles were squeezing it against his ribs.He struggled to stop the transformation there, knowing that he would be unable to breathe without the shark's head and gills.Professor McGonagall had told his class that partial Transfiguration was much more difficult once you had managed the full version; it required incredible discipline of thought to picture the transfiguration only until the part you wanted changed had finished, and not the whole thing.It was something like the old saying, "Don't think about pink Erumpents"—once the listener heard this, it was difficult to think of anything else.

Viktor struggled to picture anything else aside from himself turning back to normal.This job was made much easier a moment later, as the squid brought another tentacle to his stomach.Viktor realized suddenly that the thing was _tickling_ him.He writhed in its grasp, trying to get away from the relentless sensation, but the squid held him tightly.Had he been on land relying on his normal manner of breathing, Viktor knew that he would be gasping with laughter.But the shark's gills continued to draw oxygen from the water passing through them, and it was this that allowed Viktor the strength to slide his wand out and point it at the squid.

"_Relashio!_" he shouted—or at least, he tried to shout it, but all that came out was a small bubble.It had some effect, however, as a jet of water shot out of his wand and hit the tentacle that was tickling him.The squid dropped him--more, it seemed, out of surprise than pain.Viktor kicked hard at the water, attempting to rise up and away from the monstrous creature, but it wrapped another slimy tentacle around his foot.Viktor writhed again as the thing tickled the bottom of his foot.He aimed his wand at the thing's head this time and sent another jet of water at it.The creature shuddered and let go, then it wrapped its long tentacles around its head and floated away through the water.It reminded Viktor of nothing so much as a child pouting after being deprived a favorite plaything.

Viktor quickly swam in the opposite direction until he could no longer see the squid.He stopped and circled in the water, now completely uncertain of where he was.He had no idea which direction he had been heading in before his encounter with the squid, and he knew that was the direction he needed to find again.Below him was the vast muddy plain, with no landmarks to tell him which way to turn.He saw a few Plimpies prowling the lake bottom.One of them was bouncing along, its web-footed legs tied in a knot, and Viktor's heart rose a little.Merpeople were the only ones who dealt with Plimpies in that manner; he couldn't be far from the mer-village now.

But he still had no idea which way to go.He circled uncertainly once more, than randomly chose a direction.He was sure that at least half his time was up, and he had to do _something._

A dark shape loomed up ahead.Viktor swam closer to it, an inexplicable flutter in his stomach, and made out a sword-like rocky formation rearing up from the lake bottom.Viktor stared at it, knowing that he had seen it before and wondering where.Had it been pictured in one of the books he had read about the lake?He looked to the left and right of the formation, and, as his eyes fell on the right path, his dream came back to him clearly.Her voice had called to him from that side.This was the way he supposed to go.

Viktor shot forward, heart pounding as the rest of the dream came into sharp focus in his mind.She had been there, with her friends, and he had tried to get her out, but he had failed.Viktor swam faster now, half-expecting to see the pit from his dream ahead of him at any second, but all he saw was a huge rock with paintings of merpeople on it.Diggory was up ahead of him, passing the rock coming from another direction.Diggory saw him, and waved and grinned, his features appearing stretched out because of the Bubble-Head Charm he had employed.

Viktor scowled inwardly as Diggory disappeared around the rock.He had been foolish not to use that charm himself.No, instead, he had concentrated only on doing something wildly impressive, something that would get _her _attention.But no matter how impressive that bit of Transfiguration may be, it wouldn't matter if he didn't find her and get her out of here soon.He had been stupid, really, not to realize the danger of being without his wand under the lake's surface.If he hadn't been so determined to do the shark Transfiguration, perhaps the giant squid wouldn't have held him up so long.But at least he only had the shark's head now, and that seemed to be serving the same purpose as the Bubble-Head Charm.It was too late to change now, at any rate.

Viktor was level with the large rock now, and he could see that the pictures showed spear-carrying merpeople chasing the giant squid._I hope they catch it one day_, he thought sourly as he swam past.

Mer-song was filling his ears now, a haunting, lonely sound.He realized with a start that the eerie voices were chanting the song from the egg, with new words added.

"_…your time's near gone, so tarry not,_

Lest what you seek stays here to rot…" 

Viktor tried to ignore the twisting feeling in his stomach and plunged ahead through the gloom, following the sound.He found himself surrounded by crude stone caves.Algae were everywhere.As he swam past, he saw merpeople darting into their stone dwellings and scattering out of his way.

A painful screeching rose up as Viktor entered what looked like the center of the village.Crowds of merpeople were floating all around, and the singing chorus held the central position.A huge statue of a merperson loomed up behind them.It would have been an amazing sight, had Viktor not seen what floated gently against the tail of the stone statue.

There she was, limp and unmoving except for the gentle sway of the water.As he sped toward her, he saw that she was bound tightly against the statue by thick ropes of weed.His heart contracted sharply to see her there, unconscious and helpless, waiting for him to rescue her.

And then he noticed the others.A little blonde girl was bound on one side of her.The red-haired boy was floating below the statue, a few inches from the lake bottom.He looked unconscious as well.Potter was treading water next to the statue, watching Viktor expectantly.

The sight of her two friends there was unexpectedly unnerving, but Viktor swallowed the sour taste that had risen in his mouth and swam straight to her, afire with a new urgency to get her away from this place.

_It is not the same_, he told himself fiercely, pushing away the lingering memory of his dream.He snapped at the ropes, determined to sever them as quickly as possible, but shark teeth were clearly not designed for this sort of thing.

Viktor jumped as something hit him hard on the shoulder.He turned to see Potter floating directly behind him, holding up a jagged-edge stone.Viktor grabbed the stone and began sawing away at the rope.It was very effective; a few seconds later she was free.Dropping the stone, he seized her around the middle and swam quickly toward the surface.He didn't dare look back, as he half-expected to feel Potter and the red-haired boy grabbing his feet, as they had grabbed the shark's tail in his dream.But he felt nothing of the sort, and the odd twisting in his stomach abated somewhat as the light from the surface became visible.He heaved her up the last few feet and her head broke the surface.He followed a moment later, his ears filled with the riotous sounds of the crowd.

He trod water, watching her face anxiously.She was definitely breathing—he could feel her warm breath against his face.But her eyes were still closed and her face was oddly slack.Viktor shifted to keep his grip on her, and, as he did so, her eyes snapped open.She stared straight ahead of her at the packed stands for a moment, then turned her head to face him.

Immediately she began screaming and pushing at his chest, the way she had done in his dream.Viktor's first instinct was to hold on more tightly to her, so that she couldn't fall away into the dark water.She screamed louder and struggled in his grasp, staring at his face, and Viktor realized that she was shocked because of his shark head.Immediately he let go.She pushed herself backward, staring at him in horror, and some of the teachers pulled her out of the lake.

Viktor swam to the shallows and emerged from the water as the school nurse wrapped her—_Hermione_, he told himself, though he wondered if he was even pronouncing it correctly in his head—in a thick blanket.This thought brought his dream back to him once more, but he pushed it away as he pulled out his wand and muttered "_Finite Incantatum_."He felt the chilly air in his lungs as the shark's head gave way to his own, less impressive one.He thought mournfully of how he had expected her to be impressed and astounded by his Transfiguration prowess.That had certainly not turned out as he had intended.

"Come with me, we'll get you warmed up now," said the nurse's voice behind him.He followed her over to the bench near the judges' table.Diggory and a dark-haired girl were sitting at one end, wrapped in blankets and beaming at one another.And there _she _was, further along the bench, wrapped in her blanket and looking at him with an expression he couldn't quite read.The nurse pushed him down beside her and draped a blanket around his shoulders.

"Drink it!" the nurse ordered, pushing mugs of Pepper-Up Potion into their hands. "It will warm you up."Viktor sipped at his, watching as his companion drank steadily.He felt a tug of guilt; it was his fault, really, that she was in this situation in the first place.He hoped that the cold air wouldn't make her ill.

She drained her cup, steam pouring from her ears, and handed it to the nurse, who nodded approvingly.Viktor finished his quickly and did the same.He watched the nurse move off down the bench to check on Diggory and the other girl.This was his chance.Maybe things hadn't gone quite as he had hoped so far, but the fact remained that he had rescued her from the merpeople.Besides, it was no use hiding his feelings now, now that Bagman had announced that she was the thing he would miss the most.The time for hesitation was past.It was time to say the things he had wanted to say to her on Valentine's Day, and he would never have a better chance than he did right now, while everyone else was absorbed in watching the rest of the task.

"Where are they?" she said from his left—the first thing he had heard her say since emerging from the water. "What's taking them so long? Do you think they've been attacked?"She was staring out anxiously over the lake.

Viktor followed her gaze with a frown."They were coming right behind us," he said.He glanced over at the judges' table to see Karkaroff watching him, eyes cold and hard.Viktor looked away quickly, and determinedly seized one of her hands, pulling her further along the bench out of earshot of the others.She gave him a startled look.

He looked back at her and took a deep breath.This was it."Hermione," he said softly, still holding her hand in his own.He was acutely aware of the wisps of steam still coming out of his ears from the Pepper-Up Potion, but he plunged ahead anyway. "I was wondering...if you are not doing anything this summer...if you might like to come visit me in Bulgaria."

She stared at him for a long moment, not saying anything.This silence made him inexplicably nervous, and he looked down at their hands as he went on."I want you to know that I have never felt this way about any other girl..." But this wasn't what he really wanted to say, and he knew it._Say it_, he told himself.He looked up at her again, drawing his strength from her warm brown eyes.He took another deep breath."Hermione, I love you."

But a sudden roar from the crowd drowned out these words, and he wasn't even sure if she heard them.She whipped around to face the lake, pulling her hand from his, and Viktor felt suddenly empty.He turned shakily and saw that Fleur Delacour was being pulled from the lake, sobbing hysterically.The Beauxbatons headmistress ran forward and carried her over to the bench, but Fleur immediately tried to go back to the water, screaming all the time, "Gabrielle! Gabrielle!".Madame Maxime seized the girl around the waist and kept her forcibly from going back to the water.

"Where's Harry?" said an anxious voice from his left, and Viktor turned to see _her_ staring out over the lake, a worried expression on her face and her hands twisting in her lap.A water-beetle was lodged in her hair, but he had no desire to tell her so at the moment.Would she be this worried over him?, he wondered.Or would it always be Potter who came first in her mind?

Out in the middle of the lake, a number of green heads appeared, with a black one at their center.A moment later, two more heads emerged from the water.Next to him, he heard an enormous sigh of relief.But Viktor didn't even want to turn his head now.He watched as Potter was pulled from the water and led over to the bench.The nurse pushed him down on _her_ other side and made him drink some potion.

"Harry, well done!" _she _was saying."You did it, you found out how, all by yourself!"Viktor wondered for a moment what she was talking about, but he realized suddenly that he must have been right about her not helping Potter.A sudden warmth spread through him; he did know her, after all.

"You have a water-beetle in your hair, Hermione," he said, putting his hand on her back and interrupting her conversation with Potter.

She glanced at him and brushed the bug away quickly, then continued to talk to Potter.Viktor frowned to himself.It was nearly impossible to talk to her when she was around her friends.Especially Potter.Viktor fell into a sulky silence as he waited for the scores to be announced.

**************************

Viktor stared at the ceiling of the hospital wing.The nurse had insisted that all of the champions and the hostages—Viktor still found himself wincing at the word, even now that the task was over—come here as soon as the scores had been announced.She had insisted on dry clothes and one last checkup before she would allow them to join the other students for lunch.

Third.He had come in third in the task, with only forty points.The only person who had received fewer points had been Fleur Delacour, and she had not even retrieved her sister."An incomplete form of Transfiguration,' Bagman had said.Viktor should have protested, he knew.He should have told them that he _had_ managed the complete change, and why it hadn't worked as well.But that would be the sort of thing Karkaroff would do._And besides_, thought Viktor, looking over at the curly-haired figure in the bed to his right, _the score is not what really matters anyway._

Potter had come in ahead of him, of course.Potter had gotten extra points for making sure that everyone made it to the surface safely.He hadn't gotten full marks though—Viktor felt sure that Karkaroff had been the reason behind that.

Viktor wondered briefly if he should have waited down there too.He had to admit that he had been more than relieved to leave Potter and the red-haired boy there at the bottom of the lake._She_ had certainly seemed impressed enough by Potter's actions.Viktor had tried to talk to her again after the scores had been announced, but she hadn't stopped clapping for Potter long enough to listen.So he had followed her in silence as she chattered with her friends on the way up to the hospital wing.

"You may go, dear," said the nurse to the figure in the bed next to him, and he turned his head to see _her_ sitting up with a smile.She wasn't looking at him, however; she was looking in the direction of Potter and the red-haired boy, who were standing by the door, waiting for her.

"Come on!Lunch has already started.I'm starving!" said the red-haired boy.

"You make it sound as if you were the one doing all the work, instead of sleeping," she replied in a tone of easy familiarity.

Viktor stared at her as she got up off the bed.Was she really going to leave, just like that, without saying a word to him?Hadn't she heard anything he had said to her by the lake?

Their eyes met as she stood, and she froze for a moment.Then she turned to her friends and said, "You two go on.I'll meet you down there."Her tone was casual, but Viktor could see her hands tugging unnecessarily at her robes.Viktor smiled to himself as the two boys left.Perhaps he had a chance after all.

But once the nurse had declared him fit to leave, and _she_ had followed him out into the corridor, he found that he didn't know what to say.What could he say, really, that hadn't already been said?And it had been hard enough to bring those things up the first time—how on earth was he supposed to do it again?The two of them walked along corridors and down staircases wrapped in an awkward silence, and Viktor felt his chance slipping away as they got nearer and nearer to the Great Hall.He had to do something.

Finally, on the first floor, he steeled himself and turned to face her."I meant what I said earlier," he said, his voice lower than he had intended.She stopped and turned to face him slowly, trepidation in her eyes.Viktor knew they couldn't stay here, in the middle of the corridor.He grasped her hand and pulled her into an empty classroom.

He turned to face her again, taking a deep breath."We were interrupted earlier. I wanted to know if you would like to come to Bulgaria this summer?"He stared into her face, feeling suddenly that his ability to breathe might be dependent upon her response.

She looked away. "I don't know," she said. "I don't know if my parents would let me."

Viktor nodded impatiently, knowing that this was not the point. "But if they agree," he said, "would you _want_ to come?"He searched her face, as though this would give him the answer he wanted to hear.

"Well," she said, still not looking at him, her voice unusually high-pitched, "I'm sure it would be a fascinating place to visit, and learn about the history..."

Viktor frowned.She still didn't seem to understand.Or was she being deliberately dense?He couldn't tell."I would like to show my country to you," he said slowly. "I would like my family to meet you."He looked into her face, waiting for her to look at him, not daring to hope about what he might see there when she did.

Finally she looked up at him, her eyes uncertain, and she gasped sharply as their eyes met.This gave him a small measure of hope, and he reached out to tuck a stray lock of hair behind her ear, as he had longed to do so often in the library. Her eyes softened as they continued to look into his. 

"You are very special, Hermione," he said softly. "When I saw you at the bottom of the lake, unconscious, I was frightened. I would never let anything happen to you."

He took a step closer, drawn forward by the new expression on her face, one he had only ever imagined seeing there before.Surely this had to be a dream.He moved his hands up her arms and rested them lightly on her shoulders, then bent forward to kiss her.

Before their lips met, however, she turned her head sharply and took a step backward."I'm sorry…I can't…" she murmured.

Viktor also took a step backward, his hands falling back to his sides.He stared at her, unable to keep the hurt from showing on his face.He didn't know what to say.He had thought…

"Viktor," she said shakily, "I'm sorry...I didn't mean..." She took a deep breath. "Look, I really like spending time with you, but...this is too much for me. You're so much older than I am...I'm not ready for this."

Viktor stared at her, seeing for the first time a fourteen-year-old girl in front of him.He had known that he was older than she was, of course, but he had never realized that this had bothered her."I am sorry," he said. "I did not mean to make you uncomfortable, Hermione."He frowned as he mangled her name again.

She smiled up at him awkwardly."It's alright," she said, and Viktor knew it wasn't.He stared at her, struggling for something to say.She looked back at him, seeming as lost for words as he was.

A long moment passed.Then a noise from the corridor outside told him that the other champions were on their way down to lunch.He heard a child's voice speaking very quickly in French.

"Come on, we're missing lunch," _she_ said.Viktor looked at her again, but she wasn't meeting his eyes now.He felt that he should say something else.He didn't want to leave now, didn't want to leave things like this.But she was exiting the classroom, and he had no choice but to follow her.

They made their way down to the Great Hall in silence, an almost physical sense of awkwardness hanging in the air between them.They went through the heavy doors and stood in the doorway for a moment, looking at one another.Viktor had no idea what to say.He didn't know how to improve the situation, and neither, apparently, did she.

"See you later," she finally said, a note of forced cheer in her tone.Viktor nodded, overwhelmed by a wave of sudden disappointment, and turned toward the Slytherin table.

He took a seat at the far end of the table, aware of the eyes of half the hall on him.He tried to ignore the looks as he piled potatoes on his plate.He did this more to have something to do than because he was really hungry; despite the fact that he had barely eaten any breakfast and had spent over an hour in the lake, Viktor felt quite certain that he wouldn't be able to eat a bite.In fact, he felt rather as if he was going to be sick at any moment.

"Where's your lovely lady?" crowed Pashnik, coming up behind Viktor and tugging on the back of his robes."Shouldn't you go sit near her?Don't you miss her?"

"Go to hell, Pashnik," Viktor snapped, pushing the smaller boy away roughly.Pashnik stared at him for a moment in surprise, then grinned and, "Love does strange things to the mind." Viktor reddened and glared at him as he returned to his seat next to Edina.A few of the Slytherins laughed, though some of the others were giving Viktor disgusted looks.

Viktor looked up at the enchanted ceiling and clenched his jaw.The ceiling showed an overcast sky, which seemed perfectly appropriate somehow.He looked over at the Gryffindor table and found her sitting with her friends, looking more subdued than normal.

Feeling a piercing gaze upon him, Viktor glanced up at the head table.Karkaroff was staring at him with the same cold expression he had worn by the lake.Now, however, Viktor could see that the look held more than a hint of malice in it.He looked quickly back down at his plate, wishing intensely that he could be anywhere but here, that he could be anyone but himself.

Author's Note: The inscription on the book in Viktor's dream, _"A__micitia Amoris Certissima Pars,"_ translates roughly to "Friendship is the truer part of love."


	7. Suspecting Her

Author's Note: None of this belongs to me. This story is based on _Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire by J.K. Rowling and will feature "offstage scenes" as well as scenes from the book reinterpreted from Viktor's point of view. (This is a companion piece to "Hermione's Fourth Year".)_

Thank you to Zsenya for betareading, and to Jedi Boadicea and Arabella for brainstorming and supporting and making helpful comments. 

**Moody Slavic Man**

**By Elanor Gamgee**

Part 7: Suspecting Her 

If Viktor thought that Karkaroff would maintain his glowering silence, the next day showed him how wrong he was.  Viktor had gotten up early to fly—he found that he needed this more than ever in the wake of everything that had happened on the day of the second task—and was returning to his cabin to change when a cold voice behind him stopped him in his tracks.

"Viktor, I would like a word with you."  It was Karkaroff, and his voice was completely devoid of the unctuous, patronizing tone it normally carried.  

Viktor turned around sharply.  Karkaroff was standing in the shadows at the end of the corridor.  It looked as though he had been waiting for Viktor to return.

"I need to change," said Viktor shortly, "I have been practicing." He held up his broomstick to emphasize this.  He wasn't sure why he stated the obvious; perhaps he wanted to remind Karkaroff just whom he was dealing with. It was an obnoxious thing to do, really, but Viktor found that, at the moment, it made him feel better.

Karkaroff's eyes narrowed.  "I am aware of that," he said, his tone even colder now.  "But there are important matters we must discuss."  He pulled out a piece of parchment and held it out to Viktor.  "You will, perhaps, recognize this?"

Viktor looked down at the parchment derisively, then froze as he recognized his own handwriting upon it. _"Dear Hermione…I am writing to tell you that everything will be fine..." Viktor looked back up at Karkaroff's face, which was now twisted into a satisfied grimace._

"Come with me," said Karkaroff, and he turned down the hall toward his own cabin.  Viktor followed, his mind racing.  How had Karkaroff gotten that letter?  And what was Karkaroff going to do to him?  It struck him as distinctly odd, and somehow ominous, that Karkaroff had been waiting for Viktor himself; normally he sent one of the other students to do his errands for him.

Karkaroff reached his cabin and muttered a spell to unlock the door.  He swept inside and waited for Viktor to follow, tossing the piece of parchment onto the bed.  Viktor stared at the paper.

"How—" he began, but Karkaroff cut him off.

"Do you think me a fool, Viktor?" said Karkaroff, arms crossed regally over his chest.  Viktor thought it best not to answer that question; instead, he stared back at Karkaroff defiantly.  Karkaroff continued, glaring, "The disgrace to Durmstrang!  You, swooning over that…that…" he broke off disgustedly.  "Do you think it so easy to lie to me?"

Viktor's hands had clenched into fists at Karkaroff's reference to _her.  He glared at Karkaroff, the embarrassment and disappointment of the last twenty-four hours welling up into fury inside his chest.  "How did you get that letter?" he asked in a low, dangerous tone.  _

Karkaroff threw a disdainful look toward the parchment.  "Your owl," he said frostily, "has more sense than you do, and brought it straight to me."

Viktor knew, in an instant, that Karkaroff had put some sort of enchantment on his owls.  _Has he always done this? he thought, __Or did he suspect something was happening?_

"Though it makes little difference now, I suppose," Karkaroff continued, "as the truth has been announced to the entire wizarding world."

Viktor winced.  He had heard nothing but snide comments about "the thing he would miss the most" since the task had finished.  

Karkaroff had noticed him wince, and was now staring at him with mounting disgust.  "You're no Durmstrang champion," he said scathingly.  "So busy worrying about your little Mudblood that you couldn't even succeed in the task.  Third place, Viktor.  What kind of work is that?"

Viktor's jaw clenched.  Karkaroff's words had hit home—he _had been distracted from the task.  He had been more worried about impressing her than anything else.  And now he had managed to foul everything up._

"And to carry on with that girl in _plain sight, Viktor," Karkaroff continued, now pacing the length of the cabin.  "I have told you before, I don't care if you want to have a bit of fun.  But __this—" Karkaroff stopped and pointed at the parchment.  "This is unacceptable.  Does the honor of Durmstrang Institute mean __nothing to you?  You couldn't even keep your little crush on the Mudblood quiet?"_

Viktor stared over Karkaroff's shoulder, at an ornate cabinet in the corner.  He certainly would have preferred to keep his feelings private.  It wasn't as if he had _asked to have them announced in front of everyone.  But still, it could have been worse.  He remembered that awful reporter dragging Potter away for an interview at the Wand Weighing Ceremony.  He supposed it was only a matter of time before all of this got out…but this had no bearing on his Quidditch playing, so perhaps the press wouldn't be interested.  _

"Did you hear me, Viktor?" Karkaroff was sneering, "Or are you too busy daydreaming about your _girlfriend_?  I certainly hope you found it all worthwhile—"

The implications behind Karkaroff's words broke Viktor's determination to stay quiet.  "It is my business," he said quietly.

Karkaroff stared at him, then let out a short, harsh laugh.  "_Your business!  Your business indeed—"  He resumed his pacing, a strange light in his eyes.  "You think you can do whatever you like, is that it?  You have no idea what is at stake!  Your actions have consequences!  Consequences!"  Karkaroff clutched his left forearm as he spoke, and almost maniacal look appeared in his eyes.  "You can't hide from it—no matter where you hide, it finds you.  Even when it's impossible, and it __is impossible.  It can't be possible," he muttered._

Viktor stared as Karkaroff swept up the length of the cabin once more, not entirely sure that the Headmaster was even addressing him any longer.  He had never seen the cold, polished Karkaroff…unhinged like this.  Viktor sensed fear in the room; he could feel it the way he felt it sometimes on the Quidditch pitch, from opposing teams.  On the pitch, he knew how to harness that fear to his own advantage, but here, it just confused him.

Karkaroff was still pacing like a madman, but his muttering had grown unintelligible.  Not knowing what else to do, Viktor took a step forward.  "Professor—" he began.

This seemed to snap Karkaroff out of his state.  He stopped pacing and stared at Viktor, the look of disgust once again fixed on his face.  "Get out of my sight," he said venomously.  Viktor was taken aback by this abrupt shift, but he turned and went to the door gladly.  His hand was on the knob when Karkaroff's voice stopped him.   "Stay away from her or you will regret it," he said softly.  Viktor pushed the door open and left the cabin without looking back.  

Viktor gripped the handle of his Baranof tightly as he made his way back to his own cabin.  He wasn't sure which made him angrier, Karkaroff's words, or the fact that they didn't matter.  He wouldn't have many chances to get near her again anyway, not after the mess he had made of things the day before.  Viktor cringed as he thought, for the thousandth time, of her face as she had pulled away from his kiss.  Nothing Karkaroff could say to him could hurt as much as that had.  

Viktor reached his cabin door and was greeted by a delighted humming at his feet.  Looking down, he saw Belenko, rolling happily back and forth.  Viktor sighed and started to nudge the Puffskein aside with his foot, then thought better of it and scooped her up in one hand.  He entered his cabin and propped his broomstick in the corner, then sat down on his bed and examined the Puffskein in his hand, which was humming steadily.  Viktor brought his other hand up to pet it, and its 

tongue came out to lick his hand affectionately.  Viktor smiled slightly and stroked its silky fur, glad to have found at least one creature that was glad to see him today.

*********************

The attitude of most of the other Durmstrang students, and nearly all of the Slytherins, toward Viktor in the wake of the second task seemed to follow Karkaroff's; there were many sidelong glances and knowing looks whenever Viktor appeared for meals or in classes.  Pashnik and Edina were the only ones who were really friendly toward Viktor.  Of course, since he hadn't been exactly friendly with _any_ of them before the task, things weren't very different.  But even he could sense that the raised eyebrows following the Yule Ball had become waves of disapproval.  No one said anything to him, however; he was still Viktor Krum, and that seemed to count for something.

None of this bothered him nearly as much as the fact that _she hadn't spoken to him since that disaster in the empty classroom.  She smiled nervously at him whenever he caught her eye in the Great Hall, but she had been conspicuously absent from the library all week.  It was agony knowing that he had made her uncomfortable—that he had, without even knowing it, hurt her.  The memory of her stricken expression as she pulled away from him was painful enough; knowing that he had caused it was nearly unbearable.  He didn't know how to fix it, or even if he could.  He only hoped that she would be able to forgive him._

Then one Friday in March, Viktor entered the Great Hall for dinner, only to see a knot of students bent over something at the end of the Slytherin table.  Dorek Landau and Draco Malfoy were among them.  Viktor couldn't see what it was they were looking at, but, as he entered, Landau looked up with a delighted grin.  Viktor was fairly certain he didn't want to know what that was about.

He dropped into a seat next to Pashnik and began to pile chicken on his plate.  Before he could start eating, however, he was interrupted.

"Excuse me," said a too-sweet voice from across the table.  Viktor looked up.  One of the girls from the mysterious group was standing across from him, holding something out to him—a magazine.  The girl was rather short and unattractive—her face was flat and her eyes small and beady.  Viktor couldn't remember her name—Begonia, or Posey, or something like that.  Some ugly flower name.  

Viktor looked quickly down to the other end of the table.  Landau, Malfoy, and the others were watching him expectantly.  This couldn't be good.

"I hate to be the one to tell you this," the girl was saying, her eager tone belying her words, "but I think you should read this."  She put the magazine down on the table in front of him.   It was open to the middle—to a large picture of Harry Potter over the headline, "HARRY POTTER'S SECRET HEARTACHE".  Viktor started to push the magazine away in disgust, but then the words "Hermione Granger" caught his eye.  He stopped and looked quickly up at the girl, then pulled the magazine closer and began reading.

_A boy like no other, perhaps--yet a boy suffering all the usual pangs of adolescence, writes Rita Skeeter.__ Deprived of love since the tragic demise of his parents, fourteen-year-old Harry Potter thought he had found solace in his steady girlfriend at Hogwarts, Muggle-born Hermione Granger. Little did he know that he would shortly be suffering yet another emotional blow in a life already littered with personal loss._

_Miss Granger, a plain but ambitious girl, seems to have a taste for famous wizards that Harry alone cannot satisfy. Since the arrival at Hogwarts of Viktor Krum, Bulgaria Seeker and hero of the last World Quidditch Cup, Miss Granger has been toying with both boys' affections. Krum, who is openly smitten with the devious Miss Granger, has already invited her to visit him in Bulgaria over the summer holidays, and insists that he has 'never felt this way about any other girl'._

_However, it might not be Miss Granger's doubtful natural charms _

_which have captured these unfortunate boys' interest. _

_'She's really ugly,' says Pansy Parkinson, a pretty and vivacious fourth-year student, 'but she'd be well up to making a Love Potion, she's quite brainy. I think that's how she's doing it.'_

_Love Potions are of course banned at Hogwarts, and no doubt Albus Dumbledore will want to investigate these claims. In the meantime, Harry Potter's well-wishers must hope that, next time, he bestows his heart upon a worthier candidate._

Viktor gripped the magazine tightly, staring unseeingly at it for a moment after he finished reading the article.

"Viktor?" came Pashnik's voice from his left.  "What is it?"

Viktor turned to look over at the Gryffindor table.  His eyes sought her out, and there she was.  With Potter.  Leaning across the table engrossed in conversation.  Not even caring what happened to him.

Viktor dropped the magazine onto the table and pushed his chair back abruptly, all thoughts of food forgotten.  He stood and walked as quickly as he could towards the doors, not trusting himself to do anything but get away.  

Footsteps behind him in the Entrance Hall told him he had been followed.  

"Viktor, what is it?" said Pashnik's voice.

"What happened?" said Edina's voice, right behind him.

Viktor didn't turn around or break his stride.  "Leave me alone," he said rigidly, and continued to the front doors of the castle.  Pashnik and Edina did not follow.

He'd been an idiot from the very beginning.  She'd been with Potter the whole time, and she hadn't bothered to tell him.  She had…led him on, letting him care about her, when the whole while she had been spending all her time with Potter, and worrying about Potter, and helping Potter.  He remembered the private looks they had shared at the Yule Ball and his fists clenched in fury.

But the worst part was knowing that she was no different from the rest of those girls.  He had thought she liked him for who he was, but now he knew—she had used him to get a bit of attention for herself.  The thought sent a wave of nausea through his stomach.  She had even talked to that reporter—had told her all those private things he had said to her by the lake.  She had betrayed him, just to get what she wanted.  And he had been so worried about hurting her or making her uncomfortable.  She'd been making a fool of him the whole time.

Before he even realized where he was heading, Viktor was in his cabin, picking up his broom.  He went out to the bank, mounted, and soared out over the lake towards the Forbidden Forest, releasing his fury into sharp turns and dives.

************************************

When Viktor finally woke up on Saturday, the late morning sunlight was streaming through his window.  He groaned and rolled over, not wanting to leave the quiet comfort of sleep.  But it wasn't long before his disordered thoughts of the night before came rushing back.  It seemed as if every part of his body hurt.  His fingers were sore from gripping the broom handle, his back ached, and his leg muscles were on fire.  He didn't mind though; it had somehow felt _good _to push himself like that, as if it had moved his feeling outside himself.  He had spent hours on his broomstick—he didn't even know what time he had finally come in, only that it had been long past moonrise and the other students had already disappeared into their cabins.  The only good thing about it was that he had been so exhausted that he had fallen asleep immediately, and had slept long and hard.

He pulled himself into a sitting position, rubbing his face.  The senseless fury of the evening before was gone now, and he found it had been replaced with a curious, empty feeling.  He didn't want to believe that she was capable of something like this, and, for the first time, he found himself trying to come up with a defense for her actions.  Maybe he had misjudged the situation after all.  Maybe it was merely a case of the press blowing things out of proportion; after all, that first article about Potter had made it sound like he was the only Hogwarts champion, and that hadn't been true.  Viktor remembered the time that _Quidditch Today_ had reported a rumour that he was in negotiations with the Heidelberg Harriers.  Conrad had been furious, and Viktor had had to reassure him every day for a month that it wasn't true.  So Viktor knew firsthand what damage the press could do.

This was different, though.  This was private emotion on display.  And it was _his_ personal feelings.  No matter how many times he went through it in his mind, he couldn't come up with any explanation for the article's quoting his own words spoken to her by the lake—other than that she had told the reporter.  

That was it—he had to see her.  He had to talk to her, today.  Maybe she hadn't seen the article last night.  But she would surely know by now.  And surely she would want to offer him some explanation.  He felt fairly certain that he at least knew her that well.  He hoped he did, at any rate.

Viktor got dressed and headed toward the Great Hall for lunch, realizing as he did so that he was incredibly hungry.  Of course, he had slept through breakfast, and he hadn't exactly been in the mood for dinner last night.  But when he arrived in the Great Hall, he paused by the door and looked to the Gryffindor table.  

She wasn't there.  

Disappointment flooded through him, along with some other emotion he couldn't quite name; whatever it was, it wasn't pleasant.  He turned quickly, ignoring the group of girls giggling at a table nearby, and strode to the Slytherin table.  Sitting down next to Pashnik, he began piling food on his plate without speaking.

Pashnik gave him a sidelong look.  "So…how are you this morning?" he asked tentatively.

Viktor shrugged and didn't say anything.  Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Pashnik exchange a look with Edina, who was sitting across the table from him.  For some reason, this irritated Viktor.  

"We thought you'd never get up," Pashnik went on, grinning.  "I wanted to try transfiguring your bed into a porcupine, and see if that would do it, but Edina wouldn't let me."  Viktor turned to give him an impatient look, and noticed that Pashnik looked as if he hadn't slept very well.  He had dark circles under his eyes, and his normally over-cheerful expression seemed to be toned down a notch.  Viktor wondered briefly at this, then dismissed it, thinking that Pashnik had probably been up late with Edina, doing…Viktor didn't like to think about the kinds of things they would be doing late at night.  He turned quickly back to his lunch.

Viktor ate quickly, and then headed for the library.  It was the obvious place to find her, even on a weekend.  But she wasn't there.  In fact, no one but the old librarian was there when he arrived, and she looked downright irritated that he had interrupted her solitude.  Still, he didn't know where else to look for _her_, and she would certainly come here to find him.  She always had, when they'd met in the past.  And, he reasoned, he needed to do more research for his Potions project anyway.

Viktor was just settling in at his usual tables with a stack of books when the library door opened and Pashnik and Edina walked in, both carrying their schoolbags.  They came over and sat at his table without asking.

"Thought we'd get some work done today too," said Pashnik cheerfully.  Viktor looked at them in surprise.  They had never joined him in the library before—in fact, he was rather surprised that either of them even remembered where it was.  He certainly didn't want any company, not today of all days, and least of all Pashnik's prattle.  But they had already made themselves comfortable and started pulling parchment out of their bags, so Viktor couldn't really say a word.

They stayed there all afternoon, scribbling on their parchment and occasionally throwing Viktor strange looks whose meaning he couldn't quite discern.  He had the feeling they knew something he didn't.  It made him uneasy.  He was surprised, however, that they actually did seem to be working.  He had imagined that the two of them were always flirting and showing off when they were together.  But then again, he realized, he hadn't really spent that much time with the two of them, except at the Yule Ball, and occasionally at mealtimes.  And even then, he'd hardly paid attention to what they were doing.

No, his attention was always drawn to the other side of the Great Hall, watching whatever _she_ was doing, he thought bitterly.  And here he was, as usual, waiting for her.  She didn't even care enough to try to explain, to find him and tell him the truth.  Well, he'd be damned if he would sit there one moment longer like an injured puppy.  He would confront her; he would _make_ her tell him what was going on.  He would do it, even if he had to do it in the crowded Great Hall.

Viktor shut _Plodding with Potions _with a snap.  "I am going to dinner," he said, standing.  It was a little early for dinner, but he was determined to get out of the library, and if she was avoiding him, she would probably eat early anyway.  

Pashnik and Edina exchanged another one of those infuriating looks.  "We will come too," said Edina, shoving her parchment into her bag.  "I am hungry—aren't you, Ivan?"

Pashnik nodded and gathered up his things as well.  Viktor still wasn't certain what was going on here, but he was fairly certain he didn't like it.  In any case, it was the least of his worries at the moment.  If they wanted to follow him, fine.  But Viktor was determined to have this out, now.  He walked quickly from the library and went toward the Great Hall, Pashnik and Edina trailing behind him.

When he arrived, there were quite a few students already eating.  He stopped in the doorway once more and looked defiantly over at the Gryffindor table, ready to confront her…but she still wasn't there.  Viktor angrily pushed back the surge of powerlessness he felt, and marched over to the Slytherin table.  _Very well,_ he thought, _I will wait.  But I _will _speak with her about this.  _

Viktor ate his dinner stonily, ignoring Pashnik's attempts at conversation.  When he finished eating, she still had not shown up.  Viktor wasn't at all surprised that Potter had not appeared either.  Wherever they were, they were probably together, doing things…things he didn't want to think about.  Again he remembered her breaking away from his kiss, but this time it made him angrier than anything else.  No wonder she hadn't wanted to kiss him, if she was saving her lips for _Potter_.

Viktor caught sight of the red-haired girl he had met at the Yule Ball—_her_ friend.  Before he'd even realized what he was doing, he had stood up and crossed the hall.  He tapped the girl on the shoulder.  She turned around, looking surprised.

"Excuse me, do you know where Hermione is?" he asked.

The girl's eyes grew wide for a moment, then she said, sounding rather uncomfortable, "Er…I think she went to Hogsmeade today.  I don't think they're back yet."

Viktor nodded, but inside the empty feeling just grew stronger.  Of course.  How stupid of him.  He might have known that she would be off having fun today, relaxing while he was spending the day looking for her.  And with Potter, of course—for there was no doubt in his mind whom the girl meant by "they".  And to think that only the day before, he had been hoping she would forgive him for making her feel uncomfortable.  Disgusted with himself, Viktor swung around and made his escape through the doors into the Entrance Hall.

**********************************

Viktor turned another page of _How to Tell if You're Under a Spell_.  He was angry with her for putting him in this situation, he was angry with the reporter who had broadcast his private thoughts to the world, and most of all, he was angry with himself.  He had acted like a fool, following her around like some lovesick puppy.  He didn't know why he had thought she was any different from the other girls—maybe she had been planning to use him all along, even when she'd pretended not to notice him in the library.  In a way, it would have been comforting to know that the article's claim was true, that she had been using a Love Potion on him.  It would mean that it wasn't entirely his own fault.  It would mean that he had someone besides himself to blame for the pain he was feeling.  

However, the more he read on Love Potions, the more he realized that none had been used on him.  Which was unfortunate, as he would have liked nothing better than to find an antidote for the way he was feeling right now.  

He still felt helpless, and he hated it.  He had returned to the ship after leaving the Great Hall, but had been accosted by Pashnik and Edina almost immediately.  He had told them he was going for a walk, but his steps had led him, inevitably it seemed, back to the library.  He hated himself for being here, and he hated himself for wanting to see her despite his anger.  Nevertheless he was here, and he was fairly certainly she would come here eventually.  If he even knew that much about her.

The door opened and Viktor looked up.  There she was, standing framed in the doorway.  Her cheeks were pink and she looked a bit windblown.  _She looks beautiful_, he thought, and was immediately annoyed with himself.  He looked quickly back down at his book, ignoring the thumping in his chest and his earlier resolve to confront her.

He pretended to be absorbed in his book, but out of the corner of his eye he saw her say something to the red-haired boy, who was with her.  The boy nodded and disappeared into some bookshelves, and she turned back toward Viktor's table.  She hesitated a moment, then walked over to him.  Viktor didn't look up.

"Hello, Viktor," she said brightly, after a moment.

Viktor finally looked up, incredulous that she could pretend that nothing was wrong.  "Hermione," he said, knowing his tone was icy and not caring how he pronounced her name.

Her smile faltered a bit.  "How are you?"

Viktor stared at her for a moment.  Well, if she wanted to pretend that nothing had happened…fine.  He could do that too.  But he'd hardly be friendly about it.  "I am fine," he replied, as though to a passing acquaintance, "And you?"

She looked a bit flustered now.  "I'm fine.  Well, you know, it's been a busy week…"

Viktor couldn't help himself.  "So I've heard," he said bitterly, in something of an undertone.

This seemed to take her aback.  She looked at him for a moment in surprise, then drew herself up slightly.  "You've read that article," she said calmly.

Viktor stared at her again, wondering how she could possibly think that he wouldn't have.  He wanted to tell her how it had hurt him, how _she_ had hurt him, and how he had spent the last twenty-four hours waiting for explanations that had never come.  But all that came out was, "Yes."

"Then you should know," she said hotly, "that it's a pack of lies.  Harry and I are just friends.  Everyone knows that."

Viktor continued to look at her, wondering if he could really take her word for that, now.  And besides, it didn't explain everything.  "Well," he said, trying to keep his voice steady, "I know that at least some parts were true."

He had hit a nerve.  She winced and flushed, and this pleased him, somehow.  Maybe because it showed that he did have some power to affect her, after all.  "Look, I don't know how she heard you saying—what you said…" she said quickly, her words rushed.

"You did not tell her?" Viktor asked, forgetting his icy tone in surprise.

She looked up at him open-mouthed.  "No, of course not!  Did you?"

Viktor shook his head.  Did she really think he would do that? "No," he said emphatically, "I would never tell anyone about that."

"Then how did she—"

"I was looking for you earlier," Viktor interrupted.  "I wanted to talk to you."

She looked away.  "Oh, I was in Hogsmeade, with Harry and Ron."

He had known this, of course.  But he was surprised that she would admit it, just like that.  He wasn't sure he even needed any further proof that the article had been correct.  Viktor looked back down at his book, but the words blurred before his angry eyes.   "Of course," he said, not caring if she heard the bitterness in his voice now.  

"Viktor!" she said, in a tone of reproach.  He didn't look up.  He didn't trust himself to.  

"Fine," she said a moment later, a hard edge to her voice.  "I'm going to do some research." And she stalked away.

Viktor struggled with himself for a few moments, telling himself that he was better off without her, and that he should just let it be.  But, in the end, he stood up and followed her.  Maybe it was because he really wanted to get to the bottom of things.  Or maybe it was because he knew that she wouldn't come back to talk to him again, if he didn't follow her.  

He found her in the Magical Creatures section, flipping through the pages of a large purple book.  He was slightly pleased to see that she still looked flustered, as if what he had said had actually mattered to her.  He watched her for a moment before speaking.

"Hermione?" he finally said softly.

She turned around hesitantly, as if afraid he would yell at her.

"I am sorry for the way I acted," he said, and was immediately annoyed with himself.  This hadn't been what he had meant to say at all, but when she smiled at him, he was glad he had said it, true or not.

"And I'm sorry that article hurt your feelings," she said.  "I wasn't lying earlier.  Harry and I are just friends, that's all."

Viktor still couldn't bring himself to believe this entirely—it simply left too many things unexplained—but he found himself hoping that she couldn't see the doubt in his eyes.  He nodded and stepped closer to her.  Taking a deep breath, he said, "I do not really mind that other people know what I said to you."  And he was surprised to realize that this _was_ the truth.  It didn't matter what other people knew, now that he was standing here close to her.  What mattered was that she knew, that she understood.  

She blushed and looked down at the book in her hand, as if trying to decide how to answer him.  Viktor's heart fell a little.  

"Hermione, I'm ready to go.  Are you finished?" said a loud voice from the end of the aisle.  Viktor looked up, startled, and saw the red-haired boy standing there looking expectantly at her.  

She turned away from Viktor abruptly.  "Yes," she said, sounding a little out of breath, "I'll be there in just a minute."  The red-haired boy nodded and strode away, completely ignoring Viktor's presence.  "I've got to go," she said to Viktor, sounding anything but sorry about it.

Viktor nodded stonily, feel his anger rise again.  He was always interrupted, it seemed, whenever he tried to tell her how he felt.  But this time, he'd seen for the first time how _relieved_ she'd been at the interruption.  "I will see you later," he said woodenly, turning back towards his table.  

"Goodbye, Viktor," she called behind him, but he forced himself not to turn around.  It was enough that he _felt_ like a pathetic soul who kept showing up where he wasn't wanted; there was no reason to act like one too.  He went back to his table and began poring through _Is She Really Beautiful or Is It Just the Potion?: 101 Common Love Potions and Their Antidotes_.  He sincerely hoped he could find something in this book to help him, but, as he was painfully aware of the brown-haired figure signing out her book at the librarian's desk, he doubted he would.

************************************

By Monday morning at breakfast, the cold empty knot in his stomach seemed to have doubled in size.  He had spent a solitary Sunday in his cabin, driven there by Pashnik's relentless attempts to draw him out.  And now he was sitting glowering at his plate, determined not to look towards the Gryffindor table.  He didn't need to, really.  He knew what he would see: _her_, leaning across the table to talk to Potter, turning those serious brown eyes and beautiful smile on him.  Why should he torture himself?

Viktor was sitting next to Pashnik again.  He couldn't remember when he had started sitting with Pashnik and Edina voluntarily, but he had.  Irritating though Pashnik's prattle could be, they were the only two people at the Slytherin table who didn't eye him with veiled hostility.  At the moment, that seemed the best he could hope for.

A disturbance at the other end of the Great Hall made Viktor break his resolution not to look at the Gryffindor table.  He looked over and saw her opening letter after letter, with several owls perched on the table in front of her.  _Well, _he thought, _it looks as if she's gotten what she wanted.  She's the center of attention._  People from the other tables were starting to turn around and look towards her now.  Viktor was thankful that his owls were trained to deliver mail directly to the ship.

Suddenly she leapt up and ran from the Great Hall, sending the owls scattering into the air.  A pang of concern rose in Viktor, but he pushed it down.  He didn't care, he told himself, and he didn't want to know.  It didn't matter.  She wouldn't tell him anyway.

Over the next few days, mail continued to arrive for her.  On Tuesday, the subject of the letters became very clear when a Howler exploded at the table, shrieking, "_You foul, evil girl, thinking you can play Harry Potter false like that!  You deserve to be boiled in anything that will get hot enough—"  _Viktor stopped listening after that.  The rest of the people in the Hall stared at the Gryffindor table while the voice went on, but Viktor went back to his breakfast, stabbing viciously at his eggs.  More Howlers came the next day, but Viktor didn't even look up when the voices blared through the Hall.  

On Thursday, three Howlers arrived.  The first two were much like the others had been, and Viktor again ignored them.  But the third one was different.  It went on for five full minutes.  And it mentioned Viktor.

"How could you, you horrible girl? An international star turns his attention to an undeserving thing like you, and you repay him by breaking his heart! Shame, shame on you! There are plenty of girls out there who know how special he is and would give anything to be in your shoes, and you just throw him away...not to mention that poor Harry Potter. Oh you horrible horrible girl!..."

Viktor looked over at her without meaning to.  She was staring up at the ceiling, her face red and her hands clenched into fists on the table in front of her.  He told himself that he didn't care, that he should look away, but somehow he couldn't.  He knew this was dangerous; he felt incapable, at the moment, of disguising his pain. The Howler finished its tirade and burst into flame, and the regular noise and chatter of the Hall gradually came back.  Viktor still couldn't tear his gaze away from her.  She looked down at last, and met his eyes.  Her expression was a mixture of apology and pity.  Unable to stand either one coming from her, Viktor finally looked back down at his plate.  

"Ready for the test in Potions, Viktor?" said Pashnik brightly from his left.

Ordinarily Viktor would have given him a withering look at a moment like this, but right now he was glad for the excuse.  "No," he said, standing.  "I need to go to the library before class."

And he left the Great Hall quickly, needing to get away from her, from Pashnik, and wishing he could just get away from everything.


	8. Losing Her

Author's Note: None of this belongs to me. This story is based on _Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire by J.K. Rowling and will feature "offstage scenes" as well as scenes from the book reinterpreted from Viktor's point of view. (This is a companion piece to "Hermione's Fourth Year".)_

Thanks once again to my incredible betareaders, Zsenya and Arabella.  And Happy Birthday, Sugar Quill!

**Moody Slavic Man**

**By Elanor Gamgee**

Part 8: Losing Her 

Viktor stiffened as the library door opened.  He stared down at the book in front of him.  It was her, he knew.  Six months of waiting in this library for her to appear seemed to have given him some sort of special sense—it was almost as if the air in the room changed when she entered.  But he still didn't look up.

He shouldn't be here, anyway.  He didn't want to talk to her, or at least that was what he told himself.   It had been over a month since that article had appeared, since the last proper conversation he had had with her.  But he had continued to spend time in the library, both hoping and dreading to meet her there.  

It was stupid, he knew.  He shouldn't be doing this to himself.  Or to her.  But it was too much, wondering if she might talk to him if he were there.  She always did.  She always approached him, even though he wouldn't answer her with anything more than a nod or a "fine".  Why he kept coming back, he didn't know.  Maybe he hoped that one day her manner would be different, that she would be truly crushed instead of only slightly disappointed when he didn't answer her.  And maybe knowing that she even cared enough to be disappointed was enough to keep him hanging onto his hope.  Or maybe, in some twisted part of himself, he enjoyed punishing her this way.  

But really, he was only punishing himself.  

"Hello, Viktor," she said in a subdued voice.  "Mind if I sit here?"

Viktor looked up.  She was standing on the other side of the table, a large stack of books in her hands.  Of course.  She was returning her library books.  She never came here just to see him.  Viktor shrugged and looked back down at his book.

She placed her books on the table and sat down.  There was an uncomfortable silence.  Viktor didn't look up.  Why should he make any of this easier on her?

She gave a little cough.  "So…how are you doing?"

She said the same thing every time, as if he was just some friend she hadn't seen an awhile and wanted to catch up with.  He knew what she wanted from him; she wanted him to talk about normal everyday things, to go on about schoolwork or something else that didn't really matter, and to ignore the giant issues looming between them.  To ignore the way she had hurt him and somehow alleviate her sense of guilt.

Well, he wasn't going to do it.  Why should he?

"Fine," he said noncommittally, still looking down.

"Oh," she said.  "So…how is your schoolwork?"

Viktor shrugged again and didn't say anything.  

"I see," she said, disappointment plain in her voice now.  Viktor glanced at her.  She was looking down at the table and biting her lip, and her fingers were twisted into a worried mass in front of her.  She took a breath.  "Well, I suppose I should go…"

Viktor's pride warned him to stay silent and let her go, but the expression on her face was too much for him.  He couldn't do this to her.  Even if she didn't care about him.  But she was here, wasn't she?  She had kept coming back, even when he wouldn't talk to her.  That had to count for something.

"Weather controlling spells," he burst out, making her freeze as she started to rise from her seat, "have been very interesting."

She looked at him gratefully, and Viktor was at once glad of his decision.  She lowered herself back into her seat, looked quickly down at her hands, then smiled up at him.  "Tell me about them."

So he did.  He described the Rain Spells he had learned, and even told her about how Poliakoff's Blizzard Charm had nearly ruined Professor Flitwick's classroom.  

She appeared to be torn between amusement and disapproval at this story.  Viktor looked at her, unable to believe how much he had missed her.  He knew he should probably look away, but he couldn't seem to.  He wondered if she knew how much this meant to him, just being here with her.

She looked up at him and smiled.  "I've missed our talks," she said warmly.

Viktor smiled back.  "As have I," he said.

The library door opened again, and she turned toward the sound.  Viktor followed her gaze and saw Potter and the red-haired boy entering.  They looked around the library, and when Potter saw her, he motioned to her to come over.  

She turned back to Viktor, her face slightly pink.  "I have to go," she said, sounding flustered.  

Viktor looked down again.  Of course she had to go.  _Potter was calling her.  _

She stood up and gathered her books.  "Viktor, it's not…" she said, a slightly pleading tone in her voice.  "You know it's not…"

Viktor raised his head and met her eyes.  Her expression begged him not to be angry.  "You have to go," he said, trying to keep his voice even.  "I understand."

A look of relief passed over her face, and she smiled at him.  "We'll talk again soon," she said, and then hurried away to join her friends.

********************************

Viktor couldn't remain in the library much longer after that.  He couldn't concentrate.  He knew he shouldn't be thinking about her, or allowing himself to hope…but then, she had looked awfully relieved that he wasn't angry with her…

Such were his thoughts as he walked back to the ship, hardly noticing the rain that was drenching the Hogwarts grounds.  If he had been paying attention, he might have tried the handy Umbrella Charm that Professor Flitwick had taught his class the week before.  As it was, he was soaked by the time he reached the ship, and absentmindedly cast a Drying Charm on his robes as he opened the door to his cabin.

The sight that greeted him was enough to check the beginnings of the good mood that had been lurking in his mind.  A huge pile of mail lay on his bed, and Viktor was sure he knew what it would contain.  The mail had been the same for the past month.  Everything from "_That wretched girl…how could she?"  _to _"You used to be my favorite Quidditch player, but now I will boo whenever I see your picture.  How dare you steal Harry Potter's girlfriend?"_ and even _"Good for you!  It's time someone took Potter down a few notches."_  He had been certain, after he'd heard that Howler she had received mentioning him, that letters like this wouldn't be too far behind, and he had been right.  He had worried, in the beginning, about how to respond, but then he'd realized that it didn't really matter anyway, so he'd put these letters in with the others to receive the standard "Thank you for your letter.  Here is a picture."

Viktor approached the pile cautiously and cast a quick Revealing Charm.  The air around the letters shimmered yellow for a moment, then went back to normal.  No hexes there.  Viktor took the top envelope and opened it, gripped by a kind of morbid curiosity.  A thick wad of parchment was inside.

_Dear Viktor Krum,_

_You are the best Quidditch player and I have always admired you.  I read about that girl you are with in "Witch Weekly" and I had to write to you to tell you that she is all wrong for you.  Of course, I do not know anything about her, but I can tell you that I am much prettier and would be better for you…___

The letter went on in this vein for nine pages.  Viktor tossed it aside and reached for the next envelope.  This one was smaller and skinner, and the address was scrawled untidily across the back of the envelope.  Inside were a short note and a picture.

Dear Mr. Krum— 

My name is Ricky Davis and I am one of you BIGGEST fans.  I play Quidditch with the kids in my neighborhood and I always play Seeker, just like you.  We pretend to be famous players and I always pick you.  My mom took a picture of me on my broomstick and she said I should send it to you.  I'm wearing my Vratsa Vultures robes in the picture—my mom and dad gave them to me for Christmas last year.  I know you are really busy and all, but if you get this could you send me a picture?  And could you tell me how to become a real Quidditch player like you?

Sincerely,

Ricky Davis

Viktor looked at the picture.  It showed a sandy-haired boy of about twelve, hovering on a broomstick a few feet above the camera and waving madly.  He was smiling broadly, his face exuberant.  Viktor recognized that look.  It was the look of someone who loved to fly, who was doing just what he wanted to be doing, and had nothing but hope that he would continue to be able to do it.  Viktor thought back to the picture of himself that had appeared all over the Bulgarian tents at the Quidditch World Cup—the surly one that he had always hated.  When had he lost that exuberant look?  He found himself very much hoping, for Ricky Davis' sake, that this boy would never become a professional Quidditch player.  That he would never lose that joy.

"Viktor!" came Pashnik's voice through the cabin door, accompanied by some sort of drumming on the wood.  "Ready for dinner?"

Viktor tore his eyes away from the photo.  "Coming," he said, and carried the pile of mail over to his desk, where he set a quill to scratching out standard responses.  Ricky Davis' letter he put aside, however; perhaps he would respond to that personally.

Another drum roll pounded against his door.  Viktor went to it and jerked it open, leaving Pashnik's hands with only empty air.  "I said I was coming," he growled.

Pashnik grinned.  "Just giving you some encouragement."

Edina, who was right behind Pashnik as always, giggled and shook her head.  "Let's go," she said, "I think the rain has finally stopped."  Pashnik linked his arm through hers, leading the way off the ship.

Viktor trailed behind them, tuning out their constant stream of playful banter.  He tried to remember when it had become normal for him to walk up to the Great Hall with them.  It had happened sometime after the article had appeared, he knew that.  They had begun following him everywhere, and showing up at his door before every meal.  It had just seemed easier to give in and walk with them.  After all, he was going in that direction anyway.

It had crossed his mind then, and the thought still lingered, that the two of them might be doing Karkaroff's dirty work.  Spying, keeping an eye on him and watching to see who he spent his time with.  It was unnerving the way Pashnik and Edina watched him, and occasionally exchanged those knowing glances, as if they could see something Viktor could not.  Viktor had heard rumors that Pashnik's father had been involved in the Dark Arts, but Pashnik himself hardly seemed the type.   Annoying, yes, but evil?  Viktor didn't think so.

Besides, Viktor found that their presence often acted as a sort of buffer against the sideways glances and barely-concealed smirks he often saw at the Slytherin table.  He would never admit it to either of them, of course, but he found their presence almost…comforting.  

At that moment, Pashnik spun Edina around and dipped her, making her squeal.  He said something to her that Viktor didn't catch and kissed her quickly before pulling her upright.

Viktor grimaced.  Comforting, had he thought?  He rolled his eyes and kept walking.

*********************************************

The next few weeks passed quickly.  Viktor spent afternoons in the library, hoping to catch _her_ there.  She continued to talk to him whenever she came to the library, but it was painfully obvious that she only came when she had other things to do.

Viktor had been so distracted with thoughts of her that he had almost forgotten about the Tournament entirely.  It came as a surprise on the morning on May twenty-fourth when Dorek Landau approached him at the breakfast table, smirk firmly in place.

"The Headmaster says you are to go to the Hogwarts Quidditch pitch at nine o'clock tonight to learn about the third task," he said, as if issuing a summons.  Viktor looked toward the staff table.  Karkaroff was seated next to Professor Sprout, who was talking animatedly to him.  Karkaroff, however, looked as if he were trying to get the attention of Professor Snape, who was at the other end of the table.  Snape either didn't see Karkaroff or was ignoring him.  Karkaroff had been acting even more oddly lately, but Viktor couldn't help feeling it no longer had anything to do with him.  He remembered the way Karkaroff had acted after the second task, going on about consequences.  

"When did you become the message boy, Landau?" Pashnik was saying, drawing Viktor's attention back to his own table.  A few of the other Durmstrang students snickered.  Pashnik had a grin on his face, as though he was only joking, but Viktor knew that real animosity lay under that smile.  Pashnik had never liked Landau in all their years at Durmstrang.  Viktor got the impression that they had known each other before they had started school, and that something that had happened in the past had been responsible for the bad blood between them.  It occurred to him now that he had never bothered ask Pashnik exactly what had happened.

Landau narrowed his eyes at Pashnik.  He leaned forward and said, in an undertone, "The same time that you became a jester and a lackey.  I'm sure your _father_ is very proud."

Pashnik's grin faded.  Edina laid a hand on his arm and said something softly to him.  Pashnik nodded at her and looked over at Viktor.

Viktor realized suddenly that he was supposed to do something.  He didn't know what.  So he nodded and said, "Nine o'clock.  Fine.  Is that all?"

Landau straightened up, looking disgruntled.  "Yes," he said, somehow sounding both imperious and plaintive at the same time.  He swept back down the table.

Viktor was surprised to see Pashnik grinning at him.  "What?" he said irritably.

Pashnik shook his head.  "Nothing." He went back to his breakfast, but Viktor could see a smile still playing on his lips.

*********************************************

That night, Viktor left the ship early to take a leisurely walk toward the Quidditch pitch.  The pitch was still one of his favorite places at Hogwarts, and he thought idly of bringing _her_ here with him sometime.  Maybe he could convince her to go flying with him.  The thought of being on a broomstick with her, his arms wrapped around her to keep her safe, flying against the starlit sky…yes, perhaps he would ask her.

He had known that something was happening at the pitch, as he had seen the beginnings of hedges of some kind there during his morning flights.  Now, as he came out through a gap in the stands and onto the field, he realized that these hedges must be the beginnings of a maze.  _Of course, _he thought_.  A classic task for the Tournament.  _

Viktor stepped over several of the low hedges and made his way out to the middle of the field.  No one else had arrived yet, so he stood looking around at the high Hogwarts stands and wishing he had brought his broomstick.  It was a beautiful evening for flying, with just enough of a wind to provide a challenge.  

A moment later, the quiet was broken by Ludo Bagman's voice.  "Ah yes," he was saying, "I think you will all enjoy this task immensely."

"Of course, Meester Bagman," purred Fleur Delacour.  Viktor grimaced.  That girl was quite beautiful, of course, but she was also entirely too aware of that fact.  She wasn't his type of girl at all, not like—

"Mr. Krum! Excellent!" came Mr. Bagman's voice as he and Fleur climbed over the hedges to join him.  "Now we only need Mr. Potter and Mr. Diggory."

A few minutes later, an indignant voice came from the far end of the pitch.  "What have they done to it?"

"They're hedges!" came another voice.  Potter's voice.  Viktor felt an instinctive clench of his stomach at the sound.  

Mr. Bagman was laughing softly.  "Hello there!" he called out cheerily.

Potter and Diggory came into sight, climbing over the hedges to join them at the center.  Viktor saw Fleur giving Potter an admiring look.  _Wonderful_, he thought bitterly_, so he's got Fleur too, the same way he has—_

"Well, what d'you think?" Bagman said as Potter and Diggory approached.  "Growing nicely, aren't they?  Give them a month and Hagrid'll have them twenty-foot-high.  Don't worry, you'll have your Quidditch pitch back to normal one the task is over!  Now, I imagine you can guess what we're making here?"

That much was obvious.  Viktor waited for one of the others to say it, but when no one did, he finally spoke up.  "Maze," he said.

"That's right!" beamed Bagman.  "A maze.  The third task's really very straightforward.  The Triwizard Cup will be placed in the center of the maze.  The first champion to touch it will receive full marks."

"We seemply 'ave to get through the maze?" asked Fleur.

Bagman smiled broadly at her.  "There will be obstacles.  Hagrid is providing a number of creatures…then there will be spells that must be broken…all that sort of thing, you know.  Now, the champions who are leading on points will get a head start into the maze." Viktor frowned as Bagman beamed at Potter and Diggory.  

_Third place, Viktor.  What kind of work is that?_  

Bagman went on.  "Then Mr. Krum will enter…then Miss Delacour.  But you'll all be in with a fighting chance, depending on how well you get past the obstacles.  Should be fun, eh?"

Viktor gave a peremptory nod and glanced sideways at Potter.  Potter was nodding at Bagman, looking thoughtful.  He was probably thinking that he'd get to go back and tell _her_ all about the third task now.  Viktor's hands involuntarily clenched into fists.

"Very well…" Bagman said.  "If you haven't got any questions, we'll go back up to the castle, shall we, it's a bit chilly…"

Bagman led the way out of the maze, sticking close to Potter.  Viktor followed, his thoughts fixated on how unfair it was that he would be going back to the cold ship, while Potter would probably be going to sit by the fire and talk to _her_…did he even _realize_ how special she was?  

Before Viktor had even made the conscious decision to do so, he had reached out and tapped Potter on the shoulder.  "Could I have a word?" he said, trying to keep his voice low.

Potter turned, looking surprised.  "Yeah, all right."

Viktor nodded.  "Will you walk with me?"  If he was going to have this out with Potter, he certainly wasn't going to do it in front of other people.

Potter gave him an odd look.  "OK," he said.

"I'll wait for you, Harry, shall I?" said Bagman.  Viktor's hands clenched into fists again.  Why did everyone seem to love Potter so much?

"No, it's OK, Mr. Bagman.  I can find the castle on my own, thanks."  

In another situation, Viktor might have smiled at this.  Instead, he turned abruptly and led the way down past the gamekeeper's hut.  He purposely stayed away from the Durmstrang ship, as he suspected Pashnik and Edina might be waiting outside for him, and he did not want to have to offer explanations to anyone.

"What're we going this way for?" said Potter behind him.

"Don't want to be overheard," replied Viktor.

Viktor led him all the way past the Beauxbatons carriage and stopped in the shadow of the Forest.  He turned and took a deep breath.  "I want to know what there is between you and Hermione," he said, and was immediately aware that his words had come out much more threateningly than he had intended.  Or maybe he had intended them to be threatening after all.

Potter appeared to be speechless for a moment.  "Nothing," he finally said, and Viktor didn't believe him at all.  "We're friends," Potter added hastily, "She's not my girlfriend and she never has been.  It's just that Skeeter woman making things up."

This tallied with her story, at least.  But it still didn't explain everything.  Viktor eyed Potter suspiciously, remembering the second task, and the Yule Ball, and all the conversations where his name had come up.  "Hermione talks about you very often," he said.

"Yeah," said Potter, "because we're _friends_."

Viktor thought about this for a moment.  It was true that he didn't really _have_ friends, not the way that she did, at any rate, so maybe he had misunderstood.  

"You have never…" said Viktor, still unable to completely believe Potter's claims, "You have not…"

"No," said Potter, his voice firm and final, and Viktor couldn't help but believe him.  Viktor stared at him for a few moments, unable to fathom how anyone could be that close to her and not realize how incredibly special she was, but glad of it at the same time.  

Viktor realized that he should say something, that Potter was waiting for him to respond.  He cast around for something normal to say.  "You fly very well," he finally said.  "I was watching at the first task."  He had thought of telling Potter this directly after the first task, but other things had distracted him.  And then, at the Yule Ball, he had had other things on his mind…

Potter drew himself up and grinned.  Viktor was inexplicable reminded of Pashnik for a moment.  "Thanks.  I saw you at the Quidditch World Cup."  Viktor remembered _her_ saying that she had attended the Cup with her friends, and the briefest of doubts flitted through his mind again.  But Potter was still talking.  "The Wronski Feint, you really—"  Suddenly Potter broke off and grabbed Viktor's arm, pulling him around to face the trees.

"What is it?" said Viktor in alarm.

Potter stared at the trees and shook his head.  

A moment later something staggered from the trees.  Viktor took an instinctive step back.  It was a man, an old man, with ripped robes and messy hair.  He looked as though he had been out in the wilderness for days, and he was muttering under his breath and waving his hands wildly.  Viktor stared at the man, and was shocked to realize that he recognized him.

"Wasn't he a judge?" he asked.  "Isn't he with your Ministry?"

Potter nodded and began to walk toward the man.  Viktor hesitated, then slowly followed him.  All of his instincts told him to go quickly in the other direction.

"Mr. Crouch?" said Potter tentatively.  The man continued to talk to a tree, giving it orders, it seemed, and a moment later he staggered and fell to his knees.

"Mr. Crouch?" repeated Potter loudly.  "Are you all right?"  Crouch didn't say anything.  Potter looked up at Viktor.

"What is wrong with him?" said Viktor.  He had never seen anything quite like this, and the situation was unnerving.

"No idea," Potter replied.  "Listen, you'd better go and get someone—"

"Dumbledore!" gasped Crouch.  "I need…see…Dumbledore…"

Viktor stared at the old man in alarm.  This was no crazy muttering.  Something frightening was going on here.

Potter was talking to the man in a low, soothing tone.  "OK, if you get up, Mr. Crouch, we can go up to the—"

"I've done…stupid...thing…" Crouch gasped, and his eyes rolled in his head.  He reminded Viktor of a mad Crup he had seen once.  He stepped back again. "Must...tell…Dumbledore…"

"Get up, Mr. Crouch," Potter said again, more loudly this time.  "Get up, I'll take you to Dumbledore!"

"Who…you?" whispered Crouch.

"I'm a student at the school," Potter said.  He looked to around at Viktor.

Crouch was now whispering so low that Viktor couldn't make out his words, only Potter's responses.

"No…that's right…I'll get Dumbledore if you let go of me.  Just let go, Mr. Crouch, and I'll get him…"

Then suddenly Crouch began talking to the tree again, issuing orders in the same deranged tone he had used when he first stumbled out of the Forest.  Viktor took another step backwards in alarm.

Potter turned to Viktor quickly.  "You stay here with him!  I'll get Dumbledore, I'll be quicker, I know where his office is—"

Viktor stared down at Crouch.  "He is mad," he said, not at all liking the idea of being left alone near the Forest with this lunatic.  

"Just stay with him," said Potter impatiently.  He made to leave, and the movement caught the attention of the old man.  The madman seized Potter around the knees and pulled him back down to the ground.  A series of gasps escaped his throat, and he began whispering madly again.  Viktor couldn't make out the words.

"I'll get Dumbledore if you let me go, Mr. Crouch!" said Potter loudly.  He looked to Viktor, apparently expecting him to do something.  "Help me, will you?" he said furiously.

Viktor took a step forward and squatted down next to the old man.  He didn't want to, but he wasn't about to be shown up by Potter either.  

"Just keep him here.  I'll be back with Dumbledore."  With that, Potter ran off into the night.

"Hurry, won't you?" Viktor called after him.  He started to pull out his wand, but then the old man grabbed his arm and started gasping madly.  Viktor was shocked to see tears running down the wrinkled face.  "So…wrong…I should have…oh…my son…"

Viktor looked apprehensively in the direction that Potter had gone.  He couldn't see anything, so he pulled his arm free of the old man and stood, straining his eyes to see if Potter had made it to the steps of the castle.

And then the world went black.

******************************************

Something gold glittered above him as he woke.  It was dark, but a face loomed above him, and it took a moment for Viktor to recognize Professor Dumbledore.  He started to sit up, but Dumbledore put a firm hand on his shoulder and made him lie down.

Viktor ran over what had happened in his mind.  He had been looking for Potter, he had turned, and…

"He attacked me!" Viktor put a hand up to his forehead, which he suddenly realized was throbbing.  "The old madman attacked me!  I was looking around to see where Potter had gone and he attacked from behind!"

Dumbledore looked grave.  "Lie still for a moment," he said.

A moment later, the ground began shaking with enormous footfalls.  Viktor raised his head to see the enormous gamekeeper coming into sight, a huge crossbow in his hands and an enormous hound at his heels.  Hagrid looked around at Viktor lying on the ground, and at Potter and Dumbledore bending over him.  His eyes grew wide.

"Professor Dumbledore!  Harry!  What the—"

"Hagrid," said Dumbledore calmly, "I need you to fetch Professor Karkaroff.  His student has been attacked.  When you've done that, kindly alert professor Moody—"

But a wheezing voice and a shuffling gait announced Moody's arrival.  "No need, Dumbledore," he said, "I'm here.  Damn leg.  Would've been here quicker…what's happened?  Snape said something about Crouch—"

"Crouch?" said Hagrid.

"Karkaroff, please, Hagrid!" said Dumbledore sharply, and Viktor was surprised at the note of command in his voice.  He had always taken Dumbledore for a rather kindly old Headmaster, quite different from Karkaroff.

"Oh yeah…right y'are, Professor…" said Hagrid, and he turned and disappeared into the trees.

Dumbledore turned to Moody.  "I don't know where Barty Crouch is, but it is essential that we find him," he said in a low voice.

"I'm onto it," growled Moody, and he too disappeared into the Forest.

Viktor rubbed his head and looked up at Dumbledore and Potter, who were both crouched beside him.  They both had looks of alert anticipation on their faces, and Viktor wondered if Potter somehow knew what was going on.  He himself had no idea.

A few moments later, Hagrid returned with Karkaroff, who was running to keep up with the larger man.  Karkaroff stopped short when he saw Viktor on the ground.

"What is this?" he cried indignantly.  "What's going on?"

Viktor was strangely glad to see Karkaroff.  It was not a sentiment he ever would have expected to experience.  He sat up and rubbed his head.  "I was attacked!" he said.  "Mr. Crouch or whatever his name—"

Karkaroff took in a sharp breath.  "Crouch attacked you?  _Crouch _attacked you?  The Triwizard judge?"  He drew himself up and pulled his sleek silver furs close around him.

"Igor—"  Dumbledore said soothingly, but Karkaroff cut him off.

"Treachery!" he shouted, pointing a long finger at Dumbledore.  "It is a plot!  You and your Ministry of Magic have lured me here under false pretences, Dumbledore!  This is not an equal competition!  First you sneak Potter into the Tournament, though he is underage!"  Viktor looked back and forth between Karkaroff and Dumbledore.  Karkaroff seemed to have grown smaller, somehow, even as he had drawn himself up and started this rant.  Dumbledore was watching him calmly, as if waiting for him to finish so that he could speak.

But Karkaroff wasn't finished yet. "Now one of your Ministry friends attempts to put _my_ champion out of action!  I smell double-dealing and corruption in this whole affair, and you, Dumbledore, you, with your talk of closer international wizarding links, of rebuilding old ties, of forgetting old differences—here's what I think of _you_!"  With that, he spat on the ground at Dumbledore's feet.  Hagrid immediately grabbed the front of Karkaroff's robes and slammed him against a nearby tree.

"Apologize!" Hagrid snarled, his face inches from Karkaroff's.  Viktor could hear Karkaroff gasping for breath.  It was a horrible sound.  

Dumbledore was on his feet, his eyes flashing.  "Hagrid, _no_!" he said, the tone of command even more evident in his voice now.

Hagrid took his hand away, and Karkaroff slid to the foot of the tree, collapsing in a heap at its base.  He took several deep breaths, but didn't say a word.  Viktor could see his eyes gleaming at Dumbledore.

Dumbledore, however, didn't seem to notice.  "Kindly escort Harry back up to the castle, Hagrid," he said sharply.

Hagrid seemed reluctant to go.  He cast a dark look at Karkaroff.  "Maybe I'd better stay here, Headmaster…"

"You will take Harry back to school, Hagrid.  Take him right up to Gryffindor Tower.  And Harry—I want you to stay there.  Anything you might want to do—any owls you might want to send—they can wait until morning, do you understand me?"

"Er—yes," said Potter faintly.

"I'll leave Fang with yeh, Headmaster," said Hagrid, obviously referring to the huge dog at his heels.  "Stay, Fang.  C'mon, Harry."

Hagrid marched off into the darkness, Potter following a bit reluctantly.

When their footsteps had died away, Dumbledore bent over Viktor again.  "How are you feeling, Viktor?" he asked, his voice kind.

Viktor stared up at him, not expecting this tone after what had just happened.  "I am…fine," he said stiffly, though his head still ached and his thoughts were swirling.  Dumbledore peered at him anxiously through his half-moon spectacles, as if trying to read his very thoughts.  Viktor shifted uncomfortably.

A low growl drew Viktor's attention toward the dog.  Karkaroff was getting up, and Fang was staring straight at him, standing stock-still but emitting a warning growl.  Dumbledore cast one more swift look at Viktor, then pushed himself to his feet with much more agility than Viktor would have expected.  

"Heel, Fang," he said sternly.  The dog stopped growling at once, and lay down on the ground.  Dumbledore walked over to Karkaroff and offered him a hand.  Karkaroff ignored it, pulling himself up off the ground and disentangling branches and leaves from his furs.  

He faced Dumbledore.  "This is an outrage, Dumbledore," he said loudly.  "How dare you—"

A low growl from Fang cut him off.  Karkaroff looked fearfully over at the dog, which had raised its head and was staring at him.

"Igor, there has been a misunderstanding, that is all," said Dumbledore gently.  "I do not know exactly what has happened here, and I regret that Viktor was attacked, but I assure you that there has been no 'double-dealing'."  

Karkaroff made a sound very much like a snort.  "I would expect no other response from you, Dumbledore," he said angrily.  

Dumbledore sighed.  "Igor, I do not know how else to assure you of my friendship.  Indeed, I fear that what has happened here tonight has caused far greater damage than we know." He glanced quickly over at Viktor, then leaned closer to Karkaroff and said, in such a low voice that Viktor had to lean forward to catch the words, "Do you not have any ideas about what might be happening, Igor?" He gave Karkaroff a searching look.

Karkaroff drew back as if Dumbledore had Hexed him.  He pulled himself up.  "I do not know what you are talking about, Dumbledore," he said indignantly, but Viktor was fairly certain, from the way Karkaroff's voice shook slightly, that he did know exactly what Dumbledore meant.  Viktor himself had no idea what either one of them was talking about.

Dumbledore held Karkaroff's gaze for a long moment, then took a step backward.  "Very well," he said mildly.  "Then you had better get Viktor back to the ship.  I will inform you if Professor Moody finds anything that can shed some light on all of this.  Good night, Viktor.  A good night's sleep should make your head feel better."

Viktor nodded and got to his feet.  He followed Karkaroff out of the trees.  Karkaroff didn't say a word until they reached the dark expanse of ground in front of the ship.  

"What happened?" he said sharply, stopping abruptly and not looking at Viktor.  "Tell me exactly what happened."

Viktor stopped as well.  "I was talking to Potter and the old man came out of the trees.  He was talking to himself—I think he is insane.  He told Potter that he wanted to see Dumbledore.  Potter told me to stay with the old man while he went to get Dumbledore.  When I turned around, he attacked me."

Karkaroff turned and eyed him suspiciously, as though he thought Viktor was hiding something.  "Why were you talking to Potter?"

Viktor shifted uncomfortably; he really didn't want to tell Karkaroff that.  "We were…just talking," he said.

Karkaroff's lips thinned, as if he had guessed exactly what was going on.  He turned and started walking again.  Viktor followed.

"You will tell no one what you saw tonight," said Karkaroff in a low tone, without looking at Viktor.  "Do you understand?"

"Yes," said Viktor.  Honestly, he himself wasn't entirely sure what he had seen tonight, so he would have had difficulty telling someone else about it anyway.

The ship was dark and quiet when they returned, and Viktor was relieved to escape into his cabin and just go to sleep.

*******************************************

It was fortunate that Viktor didn't really expect an explanation for the events of that evening, because he never did receive one.  Seven years of being a student at Durmstrang Institute had taught him that, when someone told you that something didn't happen, you had better forget about that something or you would regret it.

One thing did bother him, however.  What if Potter told her how he had been attacked?  Or worse, how he had been afraid?  He couldn't bear to think of her knowing about that weakness in him.  

But he did feel better knowing that she wasn't Potter's girlfriend after all. She had told him so, of course, but really, what was she supposed to say?  Somehow hearing it from Potter had made it more real, had made him truly believe it.  Perhaps because Potter had sounded so firm about it, as if the mere thought of her being his girlfriend was ridiculous.  And really, Potter wasn't so bad, when it came down to it.

But she didn't come to the library at all for the next few days, and Viktor could have sworn that she was avoiding his eyes in the Great Hall.  He was certain that Potter had told her about his cowardly behavior.  What was he going to do?

By the next Monday, he had made a decision.  He would talk to her.  He would confront her.  He knew that he had resolved to do this in the past, but this time he would do it, absolutely.  

At dinner, he watched the doorway like a hawk, waiting for her to arrive.  When she walked in, she seemed to feel his eyes on her.  She turned and nodded at him, her expression unreadable.  Then she went and sat down with the red-haired boy.  Potter, he was pleased to see, was not with them.

Viktor ate slowly, watching her.  This was it.  He was going to speak with her after dinner.  He finished eating, then walked slowly towards the doors of the Hall, waiting for her to look up at him.  She finally did.  He gave her a long look, then raised his eyebrows at her and left the Hall.   He hoped she would get the message.

Viktor made his way through the Entrance Hall slowly and out through the doors.  He sat down on the stone steps.  He wondered how long he should wait here for her, and why he was always the one waiting for her to come and be with him.  

A memory flashed through his mind of the Yule Ball, of finding her here at this very spot.  He remembered how she had said she was only getting a breath of fresh air, and how he hadn't believed her.  He still didn't know what had upset her that night, and he wondered, hollowly, if he would ever be the person she confided in.

The door behind him opened, but Viktor didn't look up.  He didn't have to.  

A moment later she sat down beside him on the step and folded her hands in her lap.

"Will you walk with me?" Viktor said, his eyes trained on the ship in the distance.  He remembered all the times she had said no to this request, that she had too much work to do, and he somehow felt it was very important that she say yes now.  

She glanced at him quickly.  "All right," she said, "but I can't stay out here long. I need to get back to the common room soon."

Viktor nodded.  This was the most he could hope for, it seemed, and the most he would ever get from her. He stood and started towards the Quidditch pitch.  She followed.

They walked in silence for awhile. It was fine and clear out, and the sun was sinking toward the horizon. It was actually quite romantic, but Viktor felt now how wrong that was.  Romance wasn't what this was.  No matter how much he wanted it to be.

She stopped suddenly and turned to face him. "Viktor," she said. "I'm not very happy with you at the moment."

Viktor stopped too, but in surprise.  This was the last thing he had expected her to say. "Why is that?"

"Because," she said, her voice rising slightly, "I told you that article was rubbish, and you didn't believe me."

Viktor blinked.  "I did," he said, but even as the words left his mouth, he knew it wasn't true.  He hadn't believed her, not really.  

"Clearly you didn't!" she said angrily. "Otherwise, why would you go asking _Harry_ what was going on? What, you believe him, but not _me_?"  Her cheeks were pink now, and she was clenching her hands into fists at her sides.  He couldn't ever remember seeing her direct this much emotion towards him.  It was disturbing, but strangely satisfying.

"I...I just wanted to make sure..." he muttered.

"Then next time, ask me," she snapped.

Viktor frowned. She had to admit, at least, that he had had good reasons for suspecting her.  "Well, I knew you were avoiding me. And you spend all your time with--"

"With my _friends_. Ron and Harry are my _friends_. My _best_ friends. Of course I spend time with them. And if I was avoiding you," she looked away, "it's because you were making me feel so uncomfortable."

Viktor stared at her, feeling like she had slapped him.  There it was again: "uncomfortable".  He saw the word now for what it truly was: code for "I don't care about you."  Abruptly, he turned and started walking again.

She followed. "Viktor..."  Her voice was as pleading now as her eyes had been that day in the library, begging him not to be angry, begging him to understand.

Viktor stopped again near the Quidditch pitch. He gestured toward it. "Here is where the third task will be," he said.

She looked up at the hedges, which were now several feet taller than they had been when Mr. Bagman had told the champions about the task.  Viktor could only just see over the tops of them. 

Viktor stared at her.  "Will you cheer for me at this task?" he asked, somehow needing to know the answer to this question.  As if it were the question that mattered.

"Of course," she said, still gazing up at the growing maze.

"You did not at the second task," he said simply.

She flushed and looked down.  She knew as well as he did that he was only speaking the truth.  

And it was time he faced that truth.

"I told you before that I do not mind people knowing how I feel about you," Viktor said quietly. He took a step closer to her, his throat growing tight. "But I wish that you felt something like it about me."

She looked up and opened her mouth, then closed it again without saying anything. She stared at him, her eyes unbearably sad and pitying.  "I'm sorry," she said finally. "I told you before, I'm not ready for all that, and I'm not. But I want us to be friends."

Viktor nodded with some difficulty. "We are," he said through the lump in his throat. He took a deep breath and forced himself to step away from her.  He looked up at the darkening sky as an excuse to hide his eyes. "You should go," he said, trying to make his tone as normal as possible.  "It is getting dark."

"Yes, I need to get back," she said quickly. "I'll talk to you later?"

Viktor nodded again, but couldn't look at her. "Goodbye, Hermione," he said sadly.

"Goodbye, Viktor." She turned and made her way quickly toward the castle steps, as if she couldn't wait to get away from him.  

Viktor watched her go, then turned and walked towards the Durmstrang ship.  He looked back once and saw her flitting up the steps.  Viktor pushed down the urge to follow her and turned back towards the ship, walking on through the darkening night.


	9. Missing Her

Author's Note: None of this belongs to me. This story is based on _Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire by J.K. Rowling and will feature "offstage scenes" as well as scenes from the book reinterpreted from Viktor's point of view. (This is a companion piece to "Hermione's Fourth Year".)_

Special thanks to Jedi Boadicea for her random esoteric knowledge, to Arabella for betareading and for assistance with spells, and to Zsenya for betareading.

**Moody Slavic Man**

**By Elanor Gamgee**

**Part 9: Missing Her**

"Nervous, Viktor?" asked Pashnik as he dropped into the seat across the table.

Viktor shrugged.  Nervous didn't describe how he felt at all.  Mostly he was glad that the day of the third task had finally arrived, and that he would be able to get it over with.  

The last month had been difficult, to say the least, and Viktor was looking forward to getting away from Hogwarts and all it represented to him.  Since that last conversation with…her…nothing had been the same.  A hollow, empty feeling had taken over his stomach.  Even the Hogwarts food had a bitter taste to him now.

To make matters worse, there was only one place he felt truly comfortable at this school, and that was the library.  So he had continued to spend time there, telling himself that it would be cowardly to avoid it just because she might be there.  But she hardly ever went there, lately, and Viktor tried to avoid wondering where, and with whom, she spent her time instead.

The library was also a convenient place to escape from Karkaroff's eagle eye; Viktor had felt that Karkaroff had been watching him carefully ever since the night he himself had been attacked.  Perhaps Karkaroff was afraid that he would tell the other students about the events of that night.  But Viktor wasn't really interested in Karkaroff's secrets or in spreading rumors, and he found Karkaroff's scrutiny more irritating than anything else.  

"Of course he's not nervous," said Edina, sitting down next to Pashnik.  "He will win for certain."  She flashed him a warm smile, and Viktor ducked his head, slightly embarrassed.  Edina seemed to have been going out of her way to be nice to him recently, and this unnerved him slightly.  He glanced up and saw that Pashnik was grinning at her. Viktor wondered why Pashnik didn't seem to be at all jealous when Edina made comments like that; he certainly would have been annoyed, in Pashnik's place.

Viktor looked over Pashnik's shoulder toward the Gryffindor table, and saw _her sitting at one end of the table with Potter and the red-haired boy.  She was holding a newspaper, and the three of them were deep in conversation.  It struck him, at that moment, that he could almost see a kind of force field around the three of them, keeping everyone else out.  _

"At least he doesn't have to worry about exams," Pashnik grumbled.  "That doesn't seem fair."

Viktor tore his eyes away from the Gryffindor table and looked back at Pashnik.  He shrugged again.  Actually, he almost missed taking exams.  It gave him a sense of closure at the end of the year, and he found that he very much wanted closure on this year in particular.  

A shout from the other end of the table drew his attention.  "Hey, Potter! _Potter! How's your head? You feeling all right? Sure you're not going to go berserk on us?" Draco Malfoy was holding up a newspaper and sneering in Potter's direction.  Malfoy and his two thuggish friends began making faces and laughing.  Viktor shook his head and frowned.  He didn't know what it was about this time, and he truly didn't care.  He was tired of it all.  He just wanted to go home to Bulgaria._

"Another article?" said Pashnik, and Viktor didn't even need to look at him to know he was exchanging a meaningful look with Edina.  Viktor didn't respond, but turned back to his own breakfast.

As the other students began filing out of the Great Hall to go to their exams, Professor McGonagall approached the Slytherin table.

"Mr. Krum," she said, "the champions' families are arriving.  

You may greet them in the chamber off the Great Hall when you have finished eating."

Viktor nodded.  "Thank you, Professor."

"Your parents are here, Viktor?" said Pashnik keenly.  "Will we get to meet them?"

Viktor looked at him for a moment, surprised that Pashnik had never met his parents before.  But then, he had been away during so many of the events that parents normally attended at Durmstrang, playing with the Vultures.  Pashnik had been at the World Cup, he knew, but it hadn't occurred to him to introduce them there.  He had even met Pashnik's family before—his tall, imposing father, his thin, nervous-looking mother, and his older sister Ilana, who had also been a student at Durmstrang, and whose personality was very similar to her brother's.  

"I don't see why not," he said.  Pashnik grinned and shot a look at Edina.

She smiled back.  "Ivan, we have to go," she said, "We will be late for our Transfiguration exam."

Pashnik groaned and stood up.  "We will see you at lunch, Viktor," he said.  "Enjoy your _free morning."  Viktor nodded.  Pashnik and Edina made their way toward the doors._

"Good luck," Viktor called after them, as an afterthought, but he wasn't sure they even heard him.

Viktor finished his breakfast and went over to the small chamber off the Great Hall, where the champions had congregated that first night.  Cedric Diggory was standing just inside the door with his parents, and Fleur Delacour was over in one corner, talking with her mother and sister.  A tall man with long red hair pulled back into a ponytail and a shorter, middle-aged witch were standing near the fireplace.  Viktor supposed they were here for Potter.  He wondered briefly who they were.  

"Viktor!" came his mother's voice, and Viktor turned to see her sitting in the far corner.  She rose and held out her arms to him.  Viktor moved to hug her reluctantly; he had never understood why his mother insisted on such things in public, as though he was still a child.  But he hated to disappoint her too.  He caught a glimpse of Cedric Diggory over his mother's shoulder.  The boy was wearing a sympathetic expression, and when he saw Viktor looking in his direction, he nodded toward his own mother and rolled his eyes, as if to say that he went through the same thing.  

"Hello, Mother," said Viktor in Bulgarian, stepping back from her.  He turned to his father, who was standing beside her, and shook his hand.  "Father.  I am glad you both could come."

His father laughed.  "We would not miss this!" he said.  "I only regret that we could not come for the other tasks.  But, as you know, things have been…difficult…at the Ministry lately…" He trailed off, and Viktor noticed for the first time that his father's normally jovial face seemed drawn and a bit more wrinkled than he remembered it.  He started to ask what his father meant, but his mother cut him off.

"Nikolas," she said, in an almost warning tone, "Don't bother Viktor with that now."  She turned back to Viktor.  "We are only happy to see you, dear.  How are you feeling?  Are you nervous about this evening?"

Viktor shrugged.  Why did everyone ask him the same question?  "I am glad it is here at last," he said truthfully, and his father smiled proudly.

"Ah, our Viktor, eager to prove himself as always."

But Viktor's mother was looking at him searchingly, as though she had sensed the deeper meaning under his words.  Knowing her, he wouldn't be surprised if she had.  Viktor looked away from her piercing gaze, toward the other side of the room, and saw that Potter had entered the room and was now talking delightedly to the man and woman standing by the fireplace.  

"And what of the young lady?" said his mother in a low voice, drawing his attention back.  "Will we meet her this time, perhaps?"

Viktor avoided his mother's eyes, very glad that they were holding this conversation in a language that no one else in the room understood.  "Perhaps," he said, as casually as he could.  "I do not know if…" He trailed 

off, not sure how to finish, but his mother saved him the trouble by straightening up and clapping her hands briskly.

"Well, we have the whole day ahead of us," she said.  "Will you show us this place, Viktor?"  She put an arm around him and squeezed his shoulder, and he knew that she had guessed more of the truth than he had spoken.  

Viktor nodded, grateful for the change of subject, and led them out into the Great Hall.

They spent the morning wandering through the castle and grounds.  Viktor showed them the library; he felt that he should, since he had spent more time there this year than anywhere else at Hogwarts.  His father was especially intrigued by the unique cataloging scheme used in the Restricted Section, and he spoke at length to Madam Pince about it, eliciting the only smile Viktor had ever seen on her bony face.

They returned to the Great Hall for an early lunch, and were already seated when Pashnik and Edina came in from their exam.  Viktor introduced them, and Pashnik immediately set to regaling the group with impressions of Poliakoff trying to transfigure a cactus into a porcupine.  Viktor's father, in particular, seemed to find this story very amusing, and Viktor himself wondered why Pashnik's antics, for once, didn't seem to annoy him.

After they finished eating, Viktor led his parents toward the armor gallery on the third floor.  He knew his father would love to see them, and fully expected him to spend the entire afternoon poring over the finer details of helms and breastplates.

He was just turning a corner on the second floor when someone ran into him.  His stomach dropped when he saw who it was.

"Viktor!" she said, taking a step back.  _Almost, Viktor thought bitterly__, as if she can't bear to be near me at all._

He hid this reaction, however, by bending over to pick up her bag, which she had dropped.  He handed it back to her.  "I'm sorry, Hermione," he said quietly.  He hadn't intended to meet her eyes, but he did, and it struck him with new intensity how much he had missed being near her this past month.

"Thanks,' she said with an awkward smile.  Then her gaze shifted past him, and Viktor suddenly remembered that his parents were there.

Well, he had wanted to her to meet his parents.  Though this was hardly what he had had in mind.  "Er...my parents," he said, indicating them with one hand. "Nikolas and Anna Krum. Mother, Father, this is Her—"

She interrupted him before he could finish.  "Hermione Granger," she said, shaking their hands.  Viktor frowned.  

Viktor's mother smiled broadly at her.  "Viktor has told us about you," she said simply.  Viktor shot her a look, his face hot, hoping that she wouldn't say anything to embarrass him, but her expression was neutral.  

"Yes, well," _she replied, "Viktor and I have become good friends this year."_

Viktor's mother and father shared a knowing look, and Viktor quickly looked down.  _Good friends.  Those words would haunt him.  He couldn't bring himself to look up at her, or at his parents.  Now they would think…but it didn't matter, not really.   _

She seemed to feel the awkwardness of the situation as keenly as he did, because she quickly added, "I've got to go to lunch.  It was really nice meeting you."

"Ah, yes, they have good food here," said Viktor's father, grinning at her. "We are just coming from eating. Viktor is showing us the suits of armor."

"Nikolas collects them," explained his mother.

Viktor knew that she knew this already.  He himself had told her all about his father's collection.  He wondered if she even remembered that conversation, or if, like so many things, it had only been important to him. 

"There are some really good ones on the third floor," she said, smiling, and Viktor couldn't tell what she was thinking.

"Have a good lunch, dear," called Viktor's mother as _she moved toward the stairs._

"Thanks."  Then she stopped near the top of the staircase, as if suddenly remembering something. 

She turned back to face him.  "Good luck tonight, Viktor."

Viktor raised his head and met her eyes, feeling a strange mix of irritation, resentment, and delight.  He stared at her for a moment, allowing her to see everything he had felt and continued to feel for her, despite everything.  She stared back at him, as though paralyzed by his gaze, her mouth slightly open in a little "o" of surprise.

Then the moment passed, and Viktor nodded to her.  "Thank you," he said, wondering how his voice could possibly sound so even to his own ears.

"Well, bye," she called as he turned away. 

He continued up the corridor, not looking back.  His mother fell into step beside him.

"So," his mother said, lapsing back into Bulgarian, "a delightful young lady."

"I suppose," said Viktor.

"This is the same young lady you took to the Ball, yes?"

"Yes," Viktor said, unwillingly.  Why couldn't his mother just let it go?  
  


"And are things between the two of you…going well?" she asked probingly.

"Fine."

She regarded him silently for a moment, then nodded.  "So where are the suits of armor?" she said in a louder tone.  "I know your father will enjoy them."

They spent the entire afternoon on the third floor, where, as Viktor predicted, his father was enthralled with each and every piece.  Viktor soon grew tired of pretending to be interested in his father's lectures and wandered down to the other end of the gallery, where he feigned fascination with a series of paintings of waterfowl.  He went over the encounter with her again and again in his mind.  The way she had looked at him at the end…it was as if she was seeing something in him she had never seen before.  He wondered if…but no, he shouldn't be thinking like that.  The last thing he needed today was another distraction.

Viktor and his parents returned to the Great Hall for dinner.  It was quite a feast, and his father in particular was very impressed.  He chatted amiably with Pashnik, and Viktor was shocked to realize how much the two of them had in common.  Odd that he had never noticed the similarity of their manners before.  Viktor's mother thoroughly embarrassed him by telling the nearby students about how Viktor had named his broomsticks as a child, and how he had cried when the first one had been destroyed.  Pashnik and Edina in particular seemed unable to stop laughing at this, which irritated Viktor even more.

"Oh, don't look so surly, Viktor," said Pashnik between fits of laughter.  "It only makes the story funnier."  

All in all, Viktor was relieved when the many courses finally came to an end, and Professor Dumbledore rose to ask the champions to make their way down to the Quidditch pitch.  Viktor's mother kissed him on the cheek as he rose.  His father clapped him on the back.

"Good luck, Viktor!" said Pashnik and Edina together.

Viktor nodded and started to turn away, when several other voices rang out around him.

"Good luck, Viktor!"

"You'll do fine."

"Make Durmstrang proud."

Viktor turned around in surprise and saw several of the other Durmstrang students giving him encouraging looks.  Poliakoff was giving him a thumbs-up.  

Viktor didn't know what to say.  It had been a long time since any of the other students, aside from Pashnik and Edina, had even spoken to him.  He looked over and saw his parents looking around approvingly; obviously proud of the way the other students were supporting him.  He didn't know what was going on, but he had a sneaking suspicion that Pashnik was behind it, and for once, he was grateful.  

He looked around at the other students, then at Pashnik.  "Thank you," he said gruffly, then turned away and strode out of the Great Hall with the other champions.

**************************

It was dark outside, and it appeared even darker at the entrance to the maze.  The hedges were now at least twenty feet high, and no one would guess that this had once been Hogwarts' beautiful Quidditch pitch.  

The four champions stood near the entrance to the maze silently.  Potter was fiddling nervously with his wand, and Fleur kept tossing her hair as though the whole affair bored her.  Around them, the air began to fill with excited voices as the crowd filed into the stadium.  Hagrid, Professor Moody, Professor McGonagall, and Professor Flitwick entered the stadium, each wearing a large red star.

Professor McGonagall approached the champions.  "We are going to be patrolling the outside of the maze," she said.  "If you get into difficulty, and wish to be rescued, send red sparks into the air, and one of us will come and get you, do you understand?"

They all nodded, but Viktor snorted under his breath.  There was no way he would give up that easily, or suffer the ignominy of being helped out of the maze.  Whatever was in there, he could handle it.  

The four patrollers headed off in different directions, and a moment later Ludo Bagman's voice boomed out over the stadium, cutting through the noise of the crowd.

"Ladies and gentlemen, the third and final task of the Triwizard Tournament is about to begin!  Let me remind you how the points currently stand!  Tied in first place, on eighty-five points each—Mr. Cedric Diggory and Mr. Harry Potter, both of Hogwarts School!"  The crowd went absolutely wild at this.  Viktor couldn't help frowning.  "In second place, on eighty points—Mr. Viktor Krum, of Durmstrang Institute!"  There was more cheering, though somewhat less enthusiastic.  Viktor saw his parents sitting with Pashnik and Edina toward the bottom of the nearest stands, clapping wildly.  They waved when they saw him looking over at them, and he waved back briefly. "And in third place—Miss Fleur Delacour, of Beauxbatons Academy!"  More cheering.  "So…on my whistle, Harry and Cedric!  Three—two—one—" Bagman gave a short blast of the whistle, and Potter and Diggory hurried forward and disappeared into the maze.

Viktor ran his eyes over the stands again, hoping to see a familiar head of curly brown hair.  He finally found her, sitting halfway up the stands.  He stared at her for a moment, wondering why on earth it actually made him feel _better to see her, just before going into the maze.  But somehow it did.  He raised his hand to her briefly, and she waved back.  He looked away as Bagman's whistle rang out again._

"Mr. Krum, enter the maze, please!"

Viktor squared his shoulders and strode through the entrance.  The sound of the crowd disappeared the moment he set foot in the maze, as though the tall, dark hedges had absorbed it.  It was odd, Viktor reflected, but he hadn't really noticed that there had been cheering—cheering for _him—until the sound had ended so abruptly.  _

Viktor lit his wand and went forward along the only available path.  After about fifty yards, the path branched off to the left and right.  Viktor hesitated a moment before choosing the right one, and continued.

He followed the path he was on for some time, ignoring the periodic gaps in the hedges on both sides.  His instincts told him that he would find the center of the maze more quickly if he stuck to one path.

A shadow moved in the darkness ahead, and Viktor tensed.  He flattened himself against the hedge and moved forward slowly, turning a corner, and came up against something enormous.

Viktor stepped back and held up his wand.  It was a huge creature, with thick grey armor and a long sting curled over onto its back.  It resembled nothing so much as a giant scorpion.  Viktor thought at first that it might be a fire crab, but quickly gave up wondering and turned his thoughts to fighting when the creature lunged towards him, a jet of fire spewing from its other end.

With all the reflexes that long hours of Quidditch training had brought him, Viktor rolled aside.  The creature blasted past him, but its sting snaked out, catching him on his wand hand as it passed.  Viktor cried out in pain and dropped his wand.  

He stumbled to his feet, hand throbbing. The light of his wand was 

rolling away into the darkness behind him, and ahead of him, the creature was trundling around to face him in the narrow pathway.  In one motion, Viktor lunged for his wand and turned back to face the creature, which was now propelling itself toward him again.  He aimed low, hoping to avoid the thick armor, and shouted "_Stupefy!"_

It worked.  The creature keeled right over into the shrubbery to the right of the path, its sting twitching wildly.  Viktor pointed his wand at his hand, muttering a Numbing Charm.  He could still use his wand hand, but now the stinging was gone.

Viktor continued down his chosen path, passing by several more openings in the hedges, until finally his own path ended, intersecting with another path running perpendicular to it.  He looked to the left and to the right, holding his wand high to direct its beam as far as he could.  He looked up at the sky and saw the North Star twinkling high above to his left.  The left path, then, should take him deeper into the heart of the maze.  He took it.  

Unlike the original path he had taken, which had been more or less straight, this one meandered along, curving every few feet.  Viktor kept glancing up at the sky, but he began to lose his sense of direction.  Finally he chose an opening to the right, one that appeared to open up on a much straighter path.  He followed this for a while, until, to his dismay, he came to a completely dead end.

Viktor turned around, wondering if there might be hidden entrances here.  He had read of such things, in mazes.

"_Aparecium!" he said, flicking his wand toward the hedges to one side.  Nothing happened.  He tried it again on the other side, and at the end of the path, with the same results._

Viktor frowned.  He felt ridiculous.  He suddenly wondered what the people in the stands could see, and whether everything that happened in the maze was somehow visible to them.  He certainly hoped that no one was watching this, especially…

No.  No, he wouldn't think about it.  He had to focus on the task.  Viktor strode back up the pathway and turned determinedly into the first opening he found.

He stopped abruptly, however, as water lapped about his ankles.  An enormous, glassy, black lake spread before him.

Viktor turned to go back through the opening in the hedges, but it was gone. A high wall of thick gnarled hedges spread out behind him, and all along the edges of the lake.  The water lapped up against the edges of the greenery.  It was an odd sight: a lake with no shore, pressed right up against the hedges that walled it in.

"_Aparecium!" he said, directing his wand toward the place where the entrance had been, but nothing happened.  He turned back to examine the lake._

About fifty yards away to his right, a kind of a bridge rose up out of the water.  Viktor waded towards it.  As he got closer he could see that it was made out of a white stone, highly polished, and it looked very slick.  It was hardly wide enough for one person to cross, and there were no railings.  Moreover, it rose in a steep arch over the lake, its center high above the surface of the water.

A feeling of uneasiness seized Viktor; the scene was surreal.  There was no breath of wind, yet the water lapped steadily against the hedges.  There were stars twinkling in the sky above, but no reflection appeared on the surface of the water.  _It is as if the lake absorbs the light, he thought, __the way the hedges absorb sounds._

Viktor stared at the bridge, more of a span really, and wondered how on earth he would cross it.  It looked as if it wouldn't even support his weight, much less offer traction for his now wet and slippery boots.  He could swim, of course…but somehow he didn't trust the water here.  It had a powerful feel about it, and he suspected that immersing himself in it would be a bad idea.

Viktor looked back at the bridge, and an idea clicked in his mind.  He quickly scrambled to the base of the span, braced himself against the hedge, and aimed his wand at his 

feet.  "_Musca Pes!" he said, and was gratified to find that his boots instantly adhered to the polished stone.  He experimentally lifted one foot, and it came away from the stone hesitantly, then adhered again as he took a step forward._

Viktor grinned.  And to think that Landau had ridiculed Professor Kiev for teaching them the Flyfoot Charm, saying that it would _never be practical to use.  _

Viktor inched his way up the steep incline, making sure to keep one foot adhered to the stone at all times.  Now that he was depending upon it to hold him up, he found that the slender span was sturdier than it looked.  

The incline was now so steep that he had to grip the stone with his hands, though they were significantly more slippery than his feet.  He was bent double, trying to keep his balance, when he happened to glance down at the water.

A pale shape was shimmering there, just below the surface.  Viktor let go of the bridge in surprise, but grabbed it and steadied himself a moment later.  He looked again at the water, and saw a ghostly pale image of his mother staring up at him.  Viktor froze, held by the expression on the vision's face—she was looking straight at him, almost expectantly.  He tore his eyes away, unnerved, and focused again on the bridge.

He moved forward along the span, the arch now rising higher above the water, and was distracted a few moments later by another white shape in the water below.  Before he could stop himself, he had looked, and an image of his father greeted him this time.  This vision was like the other had been—his father stared up at him unblinkingly, not moving, only looking at Viktor expectantly.  Viktor quickly turned his eyes back to bridge.  _It is not real, he told himself.  __It is only a distraction.  Ignore it.  _

But more images appeared as he neared the highest point of the span: Karkaroff; Conrad Boyer, his coach; Anton Topolovich, the Vultures scout; Ludo Bagman; the blonde girl from the library.  Viktor could feel his concentration slipping as he fought to ignore the visions below.  He could feel their eyes on him; he could feel the weight of their stares bearing down on him.  What did they want from him?  

Finally Viktor reached the highest point of the bridge, and found that it straightened out into a narrow plateau before dipping down to the other side of the lake.  He stood up and stretched his aching limbs, realizing for the first time that a cold sweat had broken out on his forehead.  Oddly, though the span had looked to rise far above the level of the hedges when he had seen it from the ground, now that he stood at its apex, he could not see over the greenery.

Viktor glanced down, hoping to see only the water below.  The faces were gone, but a new, more startling vision had taken its place.  It was as if the water in the center of the lake, directly below him, had become transparent.  He was looking straight down into an underwater pit—a pit, he realized with a jolt, which was for some reason very familiar to him.  There were figures moving around in it.  Viktor strained to make them out, and they suddenly came into focus and became very clear to him.  His heart thudded in his chest.  _She was there.  And her two friends.  But it wasn't possible, thought Viktor hurriedly, because Potter was out there, in the maze.  __It is not real. It is not real._

A dark shape swam into the space above the pit, and Viktor leaned closer to see what it was.  The shape shifted in the water, and he realized that he was, inexplicably, seeing himself swimming there below the surface.  He watched, transfixed, as the Viktor in the water dived into the pit and caught her around the waist, drawing her upwards and away from her friends.  He could see how she struggled to get away, beating and kicking at the Viktor in the water, and, with a tightening of his chest, he saw himself hold on to her more tightly, pulling her away even as she fought harder.  She was screaming, and the sound of it echoed in his ears and around his 

brain.

Viktor's head snapped up.  That scream had not come from the silent water below.  But it had been a girl's scream, and not far away.  Something had happened to Fleur.  Viktor turned carefully on the bridge, but he couldn't tell which direction it had come from.  He looked back down at the water, and gasped to see only the glassy black surface below him.

Viktor closed his eyes and took several deep breaths.  _It was not real, he told himself again.  But it had __felt so immediate, and…familiar.  And he felt emotions he couldn't deal with at the moment rising to the surface.  __Not now, he thought, gritting his teeth, __please not now._

Determinedly, Viktor moved along the top of the bridge and began backing his way slowly down the other side.  He kept his eyes firmly on the bridge ahead of him.  He only looked down once, and immediately regretted it when an image of _her stared back at him.  She gazed up at him unblinkingly, and he knew that she, like the others, expected something from him.  Viktor had to close his eyes and breathe deeply before he could continue, and was able to make his way to the other end of the span without looking down._

He removed the Flyfoot Charm and looked around.  His heart sank, however, when he realized that there were no openings on this side of the hedge either.  Was he trapped?

"_Aparecium!" He tried the Revealing Charm again and again, moving along the hedges, until one patch shimmered and became an opening.  Viktor stumbled through in relief, and was not at all surprised when the hedge immediately sealed itself back up.  He was not sorry to see the last of that lake.  _

But the emotions those last few images had stirred in him were not so easily covered, unfortunately, and Viktor found his thoughts wandering as his feet led him down the dark path.  He had fought so hard not to think about her recently, and running into her earlier today had been difficult.  He suddenly had a vision of himself at the center of the maze, reaching the Triwizard Cup.  What if he won this tournament?  Would it make a difference to her?  But he knew in his heart that it wouldn't.  And he also knew that he wanted to win, not for her, but for himself.  

A high-pitched chattering sounded near Viktor's ears and he froze.  _No, he thought, __no, no, no.  Not—_

A tiny blue figure flitted in front of his face and pinched him sharply on the nose.  Viktor jumped back, only to have another figure grab his right ear.

Pixies.  He had walked straight into a nest of pixies.  _This is where daydreaming had gotten him._

_"Impedimenta!" he roared, aiming for the pixie by his ear.  This slowed the creature down long enough for him to shake it off.  He ducked and dodged as several more of them flitted toward his face.  They turned and swarmed towards him again._

_"Divido!" he cried, and the swarm of pixies split right down the middle, allowing him to slip through.  He ran forward a few paces, then turned back quickly and aimed Confusion Charms at the two groups of pixies.  __"Conturbo!"  The pixies floated off dazedly through the air, bumping into each other and chattering much more slowly now.  They seemed to have forgotten about him entirely._

Viktor dashed ahead on the path before the spell could wear off.  He grimaced.  Of course he would wind up facing pixies.  He _hated pixies._

Viktor took a left turn, then looked back up at the sky.  He thought he was heading in the right direction.  Good.  His mistake with the lake hadn't totally thrown him off track.

Viktor rounded a corner in the hedge and saw a dark shape up ahead.  He tensed and raised his wand beam, but soon realized that it was only Cedric Diggory.  He was about to say something to him when a strange sensation overtook him.

It was as if all the thoughts scurrying around in his head since those disturbing visions at the dark water had suddenly vanished.  His mind seemed to become both clear and cloudy all at once, and Viktor found 

himself welcoming the absence of fear.  This was peace.  He closed his eyes.

When he opened them again and saw Cedric Diggory before him, it was obvious what needed to be done.  The course of action was so clear that it was almost as if he was outside himself, watching himself walk purposefully up the path towards Diggory.  He was pointing his wand at Diggory.  Yes, Diggory deserved this.  He deserved pain.

"What do you think you're doing?" came Diggory's voice, seemingly from a far distance.   He had turned and was staring, open-mouthed, at Viktor.  "What the hell d'you think you're doing?"

_Pain, said the voice in his head.  __Give him pain.  _

_"Crucio!" Viktor heard himself saying.  _

Diggory fell to the ground, writhing and twitching.  Viktor could hear his shouts as though through a poorly tuned wireless, but they meant nothing to him.  All that mattered was keeping his wand on Diggory.  He deserved this.

Viktor looked up.  Potter.  Potter was there, ahead of him, pointing his wand at him.  

_Run, said a voice in his head, a different one this time.  He turned and ran in the opposite direction, his feet seemingly reluctant to move._

_"Stupefy!" cried Potter's voice behind him, and Viktor knew no more._

***************************

Viktor opened his eyes slowly as a thousand sounds assaulted his ears.  The first thing he saw was his mother's face bent over him.  The image was so startlingly like the one in the lake that he jumped, and his mother made a worried sound and placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Shhh, Viktor, it is all right," she said soothingly in Bulgarian.  Viktor breathed deeply and looked around.  He was lying on the ground not far from the entrance to the maze, and the noise of the crowd was in his ears.  He looked back at his mother, who was eyeing him worriedly.  His father knelt next to her, clutching her hand.

"Son?" he asked.  "Can you hear me?"

Viktor nodded.  How had he gotten here?  What had happened?  He had only scattered images in his brain, and none of them made sense.  The last thing he remembered clearly was standing on this spot, then striding into the maze.

Madam Pomfrey moved into his line of vision.  She leaned forward and placed a hand on his forehead, then looked closely into his eyes.  "What happened?" she said sharply.

Viktor stared up at the stars, trying to piece it together.  Water…there had been something about water…something disturbing had happened...what?  Diggory…something about Diggory…

Viktor shook his head.  "I do not know," he mumbled.  Madam Pince looked at him blankly, then at his parents.

"He says he does not know," said his father gently in English, and Viktor realized that he must have spoken in Bulgarian.

"But you sent up red sparks," said Madam Pomfrey with a frown.  "You must have gotten into trouble…"

Viktor's heart sank.  He had sent up red sparks.  He had given up, even though he couldn't remember doing so.  He was out of the Tournament.

"What happened to your hand?" said Madam Pomfrey, taking his right hand up in hers and pointing to a red welt along one side.

Viktor stared at it.  It looked familiar… "I—"  He shook his head.  It was no use.  He flexed his fingers.  "I do not know, but it does not hurt."

Madam Pomfrey looked at him suspiciously, as though she didn't quite believe this, but she took a jar of ointment from her pocket and slathered some along the wound.

"That should heal up nicely," she said.  "Now, do you have any other injuries?"

Viktor stared at her, racking his brain.  "I…don't know," he finally said.  He glanced from the nurse's dubious expression to the worried faces of his parents.  

"Well," she said brusquely, "You'd better go sit down then."  She stood and helped him get to his feet.  A smattering of applause from the stands drew his eyes toward them, and he could make _her out halfway up.  He looked away quickly; it was more painful, somehow, to see her _

now.

Viktor's father placed a hand on his shoulder to steady him, and his mother led him over to a bench.  "Where is Professor Karkaroff?" his mother kept saying.  "He should be here!"

But no one seemed to know _where Karkaroff was; no one seemed to have seen him since the feast.  Viktor didn't care.  It was simply a relief to sit down on a bench and lean his forehead on his hands and try to remember what had happened.  A haze was fogging his brain; he felt utterly removed from the noise and chatter of the crowd around him._

_Water…there was water…and things weren't what they appeared to be…_

There had been a sense of watching, of unease…and pain.  Whose pain, though?  His?  Viktor had no idea how long he sat there, oblivious to the crowd around him, chasing the same confused thoughts around his brain.

A flash of light at the entrance to the maze made him look up, slowly, and he saw a crowd of people gathering around something on the ground.  His muddled senses wondered briefly what was going on, and then he heard shouts, ringing out into the night.  "Cedric Diggory!  Dead!  Cedric Diggory's dead!"

_Something disturbing happened…something about Diggory…_

Cedric Diggory, twitching on the ground.

Cedric Diggory, shouting in pain.

Viktor's stomach twisted and he felt as if he would be sick.  No.  It hadn't been.  It couldn't be.  He hadn't done anything…had he?

Viktor stared at the space in front of him, his mind blank.  The blood pounded in his ears, and his own labored breathing drowned out the screams of the crowd around him.  It couldn't be…it couldn't be…

A familiar face moved across his field of vision, and Viktor's eyes widened.  _She was there, moving past him with a group of people, clutching the hand of the red-haired boy.  She musn't know.  Whatever he had done…what __had he done?…but she musn't know.  _

Another wave of nausea overtook him, and Viktor pitched forward and vomited, his mind and senses reeling.

_It can't be._


	10. Leaving Her

Author's Note: None of this belongs to me. This story is based on _Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire by J.K. Rowling and will feature "offstage scenes" as well as scenes from the book reinterpreted from Viktor's point of view. (This is a companion piece to "Hermione's Fourth Year".)_

Special thanks to Moey, for being my cheerleader and awesome betareader through this chapter, and to Zsenya for betareading.

**Moody Slavic Man**

**By Elanor Gamgee**

**Part 10: Leaving Her**

Viktor was standing on the highest point of the span, over the dark lake.  He looked down.  An image of her face was floating in the water below him, but she seemed to be looking right through him.  She cocked her head to one side and said something to him, but he couldn't understand it.  He could hear her words, as though from a great distance, but they didn't make any sense.  It was as if she was speaking a language he didn't understand.

Then the water rippled, and her image was replaced by one of Pashnik, looking at him with concern.  A moment later, Pashnik disappeared, and the smooth surface of the water was all he could see.  Viktor sighed in relief and looked around.  The hedges were there, around the lake, but they had grown even taller than he remembered.  There were so tall that the only starlight he could see was directly above him, in a small square high overhead, and the stars were pale and distant.  

Vaguely wondering why he was here in the first place, Viktor looked back down at the water.  He gasped.  He had been high above the lake before, and now the span had dropped much closer to the water, so low that he could have reached down and touched it, if he had wanted to.  But he didn't want to.  

Another image began to form on the water's surface, and Viktor leaned forward to see who it was.  Cedric Diggory's face smiled up at him for a moment, and then the expression changed to one of surprise, and then shock.  Diggory was yelling something, something he couldn't hear, and then he was writhing in pain.  Viktor tried to move, to get away from the sight, but his feet were too firmly planted to the span.  He shoved himself backwards to loosen his feet, and lost his balance.  He fell towards the water, swept by a wave of relief as its icy blackness closed over him.

Viktor blinked.  There was no water, only pale sunlight filtering through blue curtains.  A soft pillow was under his head, and he was lying under a thick quilt.  He was hot.  Viktor shifted the blankets off of him.

"Viktor!  You're awake."  His mother's voice came from his right, and Viktor turned to see her looking at him with concern.  A set of red robes was draped on the back of her chair, and he could see that they were muddy and grass-stained.  He wondered, briefly, why the sight made him feel as if he was about to throw up.

A moment later, his mother had crossed the space between them and placed a cool hand on his forehead.  "How are you feeling?" she said softly.

Viktor didn't know how to answer that.  "Fine" was not right, he knew that; he simply couldn't remember why.  So he settled for shaking his head quickly and asking, "Where are we?"

His mother's face clouded.  "You do not remember coming here?"

Viktor shook his head again.

His mother sighed.  "The Three Broomsticks, in Hogsmeade.  Your father and I had…reserved a room…"

The Tournament.  They had reserved a room for the Tournament.  He remembered that now.  Something else lingered at the back of his mind, something else he knew he should remember.  But he resisted it.

Viktor's mother sat on the edge of the bed and peered at him anxiously.  "Tomek was here earlier.  He said you would be fine.  He fixed your hand."

Viktor looked down at the hand she indicated.  He vaguely remembered a huge creature, in the maze, with a long sting.  He flexed his hand experimentally, and felt no pain.  The creature had stung him on his wand hand, he remembered, and his wand had rolled away…

"Where is my wand?" he asked.  His mother gave him an odd look, as though this was a strange thing for him to be asking about.  He supposed it was, but he also had a sudden need to know that his wand was nearby.

"On the nightstand," she said.  Viktor started to reach over and pick it up, when the door opened and his father walked in.

"Viktor!  Awake, thank goodness," boomed his father, and Viktor winced at the volume of his voice.  "Feeling better?"

Viktor shrugged and turned to pick up his wand.

"Probably still shaky from that potion Tomek gave you…" His father's voice faded out as Viktor stared at the wand in his hand.  An odd sight.  Menacing, almost.  Someone could do real damage with a wand.  Many people had.

Including himself.

"…said that you should rest today, but I told him that you would be fine.  After all, that was just a little wound, and you have had worse at Quidditch…" Viktor's father was droning on in the background, but Viktor hardly heard him.

****

What do you think you're doing? What the hell d'you think you're doing? 

As though a door had opened somewhere in his mind, memories of the night before came flooding back.  The lake, the pixies, Diggory writhing in pain, himself the cause of it, Potter pointing a wand at him.  The noise of the crowd, his mother's anxious face bending over him, the cries of "Cedric Diggory's dead!".  Seeing _her_, knowing that she would find out what he had done…he had been sick, he remembered, fighting the urge to vomit again at the memory. And his parents, somehow getting him here.

Viktor swung his legs over the side of the bed.  He had to get out of here, to get away.  It didn't matter where.  

"Viktor!  What are you doing?" his mother cried.

"I need to go," he said.  Realizing how ridiculous this must sound to them, he added, "back to the ship.  I want to talk to Professor Karkaroff."

His parents exchanged a look.  "What is it?" Viktor demanded.

"Professor Karkaroff has disappeared," said his father gravely.  "No one has seen him since last night."

Viktor shrugged.  He had not really wanted to speak to Karkaroff anyway; he merely wanted to get away from his parents and the strange looks they were giving him.  "I want to go back to the ship," he said stubbornly.

"But, Viktor, Tomek said that you should stay—" Viktor pushed past his mother and stood up, noticing for the first time that he was wearing a pair of his father's pajamas.  He started to reach for the red robes lying on the chair, and then stopped, suddenly feeling as though he would rather burn them than put them on again.

"Father," he said without turning around, "may I borrow some robes?"

"Of course," said his father, and, a moment later, he handed Viktor a set of burgundy robes.  

"Mother," said Viktor, looking at her.  She looked back at him expectantly, and then seemed to take his meaning.  An odd expression crossed her face, and she stood up and left the room so that he could change.  

An hour later Viktor and his parents were walking through the front gates of Hogwarts.  His mother had insisted that he eat some breakfast, though the smell of food had made him want to be sick again.  Now they were going to speak to Professor Dumbledore.  It was the only way they would agree to him coming back.  

"I am going back to the ship," he said, as they neared the castle.  

"We will come find you when we have finished speaking to Professor Dumbledore," said his father.

Viktor nodded, and turned toward the ship, glad to be away from his parents and their anxious looks.  It was nearly unbearable, knowing how little he deserved their concern.

He skirted the ship and sat down on a large rock by the lake.  He had no desire to face the other students yet, especially Pashnik and Edina, whose concerned looks would probably rival those of his parents.  He only wanted to be alone, to think through what had happened and try to make sense of it.  If that was even possible.

He had done it.  He had put the Cruciatus Curse on another human being.  On Diggory.  But why?  What had he been thinking?  He remembered doing it, remembered saying the word, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't remember _why_.  It was as if he hadn't even been thinking when he had done it, as if some instinct had taken over.  As if, inside him, there had always been someone capable of doing this, and it had merely picked this time to come out.

And now, Diggory was dead.  

Someone sat down on the rock beside him, and Viktor knew without even looking that it was _her_.

"Are you all right?" she asked, her voice soft and concerned.  Viktor cringed to hear it.  He didn't deserve anyone's sympathy, least of all hers.  He looked at her quickly, wondering how much she knew, how much Potter had told her.

"I was really worried," she continued.  "I mean, there was all that horrible yelling, and then Hagrid carried you out, and you were unconscious..." Viktor winced at the mention of the yelling, and closed his eyes.  She didn't know.  Somehow, this made him feel even worse.  He didn't say anything, wishing for the first time in his life that she would go away.  He couldn't stand to be sitting beside her by the lake, on a beautiful day, knowing what he was.  

There was a long silence.  "Listen," she finally said, "If you want to talk—"

"I don't," he said roughly, more roughly that he had ever spoken to her.  He turned and looked at her, and she stared back at him, looking slightly frightened.

His heart sank.  If he had ever thought that he could tell her about…last night, the apprehensive look on her face would have convinced him otherwise.  He looked away and took a deep breath.

"You should go," he said, fighting to keep his tone even.

Her voice was a higher pitch than usual when she replied.  "Oh, I can stay if you—"

"I want you to go," Viktor said firmly, unable to look at her.  

"Er…all right," she said, standing up, and Viktor could sense her confusion.  He couldn't help it, though.  "See you later then." 

He heard her footsteps die away behind him, leaving him alone once again with his troubled thoughts.

************************

"Viktor!  There you are!  Why weren't you on the ship?" came his mother's indignant voice behind him, and Viktor was once again drawn out of his tangled thoughts.  He turned, and saw his parents hurrying over to him.

"I…wanted some fresh air," he said vaguely.

His mother nodded and patted his head.  "Of course, dear," she said.  "Now, we've just been to see Professor Dumbledore and he agrees that it would be best if you come home early with us—"

Viktor stood up abruptly.  "I am not going home," he said.

His parents both stared at him as if what he had just said were quite ridiculous.  "Of course you are," said his father.  "After—everything that has happened, and with Professor Karkaroff missing, you must come home."

Viktor shook his head.  The last thing he wanted was to be at home right now, where his mother would fuss over him and his father would mask his concern with humor.  For the first time this year, he wanted to stay on the Durmstrang ship, to stay here with his classmates.  He wasn't entirely sure why it seemed so very important, but it did.  

"Viktor," said his mother soothingly, laying a hand on his arm, "I know that you are not feeling well, but you must come home now."

"No," said Viktor firmly.  "I want to stay here.  I will come home next week with the rest of the students."

His parents exchanged a look, then his mother sighed resignedly.  "Well," she said, "I suppose I could stay in Hogsmeade for the week…your father has to go back to work, but I could—"

"_No_, Mother," Viktor burst out angrily.  "I am eighteen years old, and I can take care of myself for a week.  Go home."  He knew he was taking things out on her that were not her fault, that she was only trying to take care of him, but he wanted her to go away.  He just wanted everyone to go away.

His mother gave him an almost fearful look, then looked at his father.  "Fine," she said, her voice tight.  But then she stepped forward and drew Viktor into a tight hug.  "If you need anything, owl us," she said softly, then stepped back.  Viktor nodded and squeezed her hand.  

His father clapped a hand on his shoulder and looked Viktor in the eye.  "Be careful," he said gravely.

Viktor nodded again, and his parents turned and walked back toward the gate.  Viktor sagged a little and sat back down on the rock, relived that he had won that particular battle.

************************

Viktor spent the next two days in his cabin, alternately reliving the events of the third task and trying to forget them.   He didn't feel like doing anything; not even the thought of flying appealed to him.  The thought of doing any of the things that brought him joy after…that night…just seemed wrong.  He even avoided eating for the first day, as going to the Great Hall was the last thing he wanted.  On the second day, hunger finally overtook him, and he got one of the house-elves to make him a sandwich.

On the third day, Viktor awoke from another disturbing dream to pounding at his door.  Pashnik and Edina, and even Poliakoff once or twice, had been knocking on his cabin door periodically for the past two days, but he had always ignored it.  He didn't want anything from them, least of all sympathy.

But the pounding this time was more insistent, and Viktor soon realized that it was not going to go away on its own.

"Go away," he called loudly, and pressed his pillow over his ears to drown out the sound.

"No," came Pashnik's voice from the other side of the door.  "Let us in, Viktor."

"No," said Viktor.  "Leave me alone."

"No," said Pashnik, and Viktor was surprised to hear the firmness in his tone.  "We're not leaving until you let us in."

"You've been in there for two days, Viktor," came Edina's voice.  "It's time to come out."

"No," said Viktor again.  They didn't understand.  There was no way they could understand.

He heard them whispering back and forth, and then Pashnik's voice again.  "_Alohamora!_"

Viktor smiled grimly to himself.  The Locking Charm he had put on his door was too powerful for that.

There was more whispering, and then two voices sounded.  "_Alohamora!_"

The door swung open at once, and Viktor scrambled into a sitting position.  He had underestimated the two of them.

Pashnik and Edina stepped into the room, both looking worried.  Edina saw Viktor sitting up in bed and went a little pink, but her mouth was set in a determined line, and she did not leave.  

"Viktor," Pashnik burst out, "What is going on?"

Viktor looked away.  He didn't want to talk about it with anyone, and certainly not with Pashnik.  

"You've been hiding in here for two days.  What happened to you?" Pashnik insisted.  Viktor didn't answer.

Edina stepped forward.  "Viktor," she began, in a low, soothing tone, "you've been inside for two days.  It can't be good for you.  Come outside and get some fresh air.  We'll…have a picnic.  We'll get some food and have a picnic.  It's beautiful outside."

"I don't want to talk about it," said Viktor in a low voice.

"Then we won't ask," said Edina quickly.  She laid a hand on Pashnik's arm as he was about to protest this.  "We won't ask," she repeated firmly.  She gave him a long look.

"Fine," said Pashnik, sagging a little and looking at Viktor.  "We won't ask."

"So will you come?" asked Edina.

Viktor paused for a moment, then nodded.  It would be nice, after all, to go outside.  It was getting stuffy in this cabin, he told himself.  He swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood up.  Edina made a small sound of protest and started to leave the room, but stopped when she saw that Viktor was wearing his school robes.  He had fallen asleep in them the night before.  Viktor bent down and put on his shoes.

"But, if you want to tell us anything, you can," said Pashnik.  Viktor paused, staring down at his shoes for a moment.  Then he cleared his throat and stood up, smoothing his robes.

The three of them looked at each other for a moment.  "Well, then," said Edina finally, "a picnic.  Let's go."

Viktor followed them out of the room.  As he turned to pull the door closed behind him, he looked down the corridor and saw that the door to the headmaster's cabin was slightly ajar.

"Viktor?" said Pashnik.  "What is wrong?"

Viktor shook his head.  "Nothing," he said absently.  "You go ahead.  I will meet you outside."

Pashnik and Edina both looked at him suspiciously.  "I will meet you outside," he repeated.  "I thought of something I have to do.  I promise.  I will come."

Pashnik and Edina looked at each other and seemed to come to some unspoken agreement.  "I suppose we could go get the food," said Edina.  "We will meet you in the clearing just outside."

Viktor nodded.  Edina and Pashnik turned and went down the corridor toward the gangplank.  Viktor watched them go, then turned and went in the opposite direction, toward the headmaster's cabin.  He approached it cautiously, as quietly as he could, and peered through the crack of the door.

Albus Dumbledore was sitting on the highly ornate bed, turning something over in his hands.  It looked like a carven figure—a dragon, he realized, as he looked more closely.

Viktor turned to go, but stopped dead as Dumbledore began to speak.

"Muggles make these sorts of figures too, you know," he said, quite conversationally.  "Oh, they don't move like these, of course, but they can be just as detailed.  It's quite amazing, really, to watch a Muggle artist carving.  They keep working on it until they get it right.  Sometimes they have to start over many times.  And yet they don't give up.  Many of our kind underestimate them.  Wouldn't you agree, Mr. Krum?"

Viktor turned slowly and came back to stand in the doorway.  He didn't answer, but that apparently didn't matter, as Dumbledore continued.

"It is amazing what can be done without magic.  In fact," he turned his light blue eyes on Viktor for the first time, "some things cannot be helped by magic at all."  Viktor stared, not entirely sure what Dumbledore was talking about.

"How are you feeling?"

Viktor was silent for a moment.  He remembered how kind Dumbledore had been to him after he had been attacked in the Forest, and he considered telling him what had happened, about what had really been bothering him for the last few days.  

But then he realized how ridiculous that thought was.  "Fine," he said.

Dumbledore looked at him closely for a moment.  "I suspected that you would not leave early, as your parents wanted you to."

Viktor looked at him in surprise.  "Why?" he asked, the word out of his mouth before he had decided to say it.

Dumbledore smiled grimly.  "It is not your way."

Viktor wasn't quite sure how to take that.  He had the sense that Dumbledore already knew every one of his secrets; indeed, that he already knew more about Viktor than Viktor did himself.  He noticed, suddenly, that Dumbledore looked older than he had before the third task, but also somehow stronger.  Viktor didn't know how that was possible.

"There have been many wounds inflicted," said Dumbledore softly, carefully looking at Viktor, "and not all of them obvious."

"I suppose," said Viktor, not meeting Dumbledore's eyes.

"What do you know about the Unforgivable Curses?" asked Dumbledore suddenly.  

Viktor felt his stomach constrict.  _He knows.  _"Wh-what?"

"What do you know," said Dumbledore more softly, "about the Unforgivable Curses?  Surely Professor Karkaroff has taught you about them?"

Viktor nodded, swallowing hard.

"Then tell me what you have learned."

Viktor closed his eyes.  "There are three," he said woodenly.  "The Killing Curse, the Imperius Curse, and…the Cruciatus Curse."

"And what are the qualities of each?"

Dumbledore was punishing him, he realized.  He wouldn't just say, "I know what you did."  No, he would make him relive it, would make him agonize over it.  Well, perhaps that was what he deserved.  If not worse.

"The Killing Curse," he said, his throat dry, "kills instantly and silently.  The Imperius Curse allows the wizard performing the curse to completely control another person, to make them do anything he wishes…" His voice trailed off.  He couldn't do it.  He couldn't describe the Cruciatus Curse, not now that he had seen it.  Now that he had _done_ it.

Dumbledore cleared his throat, and Viktor looked up, expecting the professor to prompt him to continue.  But he didn't.  "And…do you know what the person under the control of the curse feels?"

Viktor stared at him, confused, but tried to remember what he had read.  "Nothing," he said, "Everything else goes away.  All the person hears is the command of the wizard performing the curse…"

_Pain.  Give him pain._

Viktor stared at Dumbledore, suddenly understanding.  He hadn't done it.  Someone else had, through him.  

Dumbledore gave him a sad sort of smile.  Viktor felt a wave of relief, immediately followed by a wave of shame at his own inability to fight off the curse.  He had been too weak.  

"Who?" Viktor asked, standing up straighter.  "Who did this?"

"I regret that I cannot tell you," said Dumbledore, and true regret was evident in his face and in his voice.

Viktor frowned.  

"There will be many choices to make in the upcoming weeks and months," said Dumbledore, looking closely at Viktor.  "We will all be needing our friends more than ever.  If you should need anything, please come and see me."  Viktor looked at him quickly, something like suspicion rising in his throat, but Dumbledore seemed genuine.  Viktor nodded hesitantly.

Dumbledore sighed and stood up.  "I believe this is yours," he said, handing the figurine to Viktor.  Viktor took it in surprise, and realized that it was the model of the Chinese Fireball he had drawn in the first task.  He didn't bother to wonder how it had wound up in Karkaroff's cabin.  The dragon strode across his palm and clawed ineffectually at his thumb.  _I know exactly how it feels_, he thought.

"It is odd," said Dumbledore lightly, breaking into his thoughts, "that all of the Durmstrang students have elected to stay here, even though Professor Karkaroff has left, don't you think?"

Viktor shrugged.  "There is no leader now," he said absently, and turned to go, now that Professor Dumbledore had apparently concluded the interview.

"I think you are wrong about that," said Professor Dumbledore softly behind him.

Viktor turned around to ask what he meant by that, but Dumbledore was already gone.

************************

Viktor spent the next few days enduring Pashnik and Edina's attempts to draw him out.  He had met them for the picnic, as promised, and it hadn't been too bad.  They had both avoided asking him about the task, or even mentioning it at all, and for that he was grateful.  They had dragged him outside for picnics every day after that.  Edina had felt that the fresh air was good for him.  Pashnik had even coaxed him onto a broomstick at one point, by insinuating that he had lost his ability to do the Wronski Feint correctly.  Viktor had almost felt his old exhilaration at being on a broomstick, but then he had seen the Hogwarts Quidditch pitch in the distance, the remnants of the maze sticking up at intervals.  _Cedric Diggory played Seeker_ had flashed through his head.  He'd landed and dismounted quickly.  Even if it wasn't his fault, it was still too recent, and he had no business feeling joy.  Pashnik had asked indignantly what he was doing, but Edina had given him a warning look.  Since then, Viktor's Baranof had stayed on its pegs in his cabin.

Even so, it was a relief that they didn't ask questions.  And even if their attempts to distract him were a bit obvious, he didn't really mind, not like he used to.  

The night before they were to leave Hogwarts, Viktor entered the Great Hall with Pashnik and Edina.  Viktor stopped in his tracks when he saw the black drapes lining the wall behind the teachers' table.  There was no doubt in his mind why they were there.  

He continued to the Slytherin table behind Pashnik and Edina, wondering if he really had a right to be there, for this.  _It was not your fault_, he told himself.

The crowd in the Great Hall was more subdued than usual, even at the Slytherin table.  But when Professor Dumbledore stood up, it became completely silent.

"The end of another year," he said, an almost weary note in his voice.  He paused, looking at the Hufflepuff table.  "There is much that I would like to say to you all tonight, but first I must acknowledge the loss of a very fine person, who should be sitting here enjoying our Feast with us.  I would like you all, please, to stand, and raise your glasses, to Cedric Diggory."

Viktor stood up quickly, practically knocking his chair over in the process.  Pashnik gave him a concerned, slightly startled look, but Viktor kept his eyes on Dumbledore.  Around the Hall, everyone stood, raising his or her glasses and murmuring, "Cedric Diggory."

"Cedric was a person who exemplified many of the qualities of Hufflepuff House," Dumbledore continued, once they had all sat down.  "He was a good and loyal friend, a hard worker, he valued fair play.  His death has affected you all, whether you knew him well or not." Viktor looked down at his plate.  "I think that you have the right, therefore," Dumbledore continued smoothly, "to know exactly how it came about."

Viktor raised his head and stared at Dumbledore.

"Cedric Diggory was murdered by Lord Voldemort."  Dumbledore delivered the words in a gentle, but matter-of-fact tone.  Viktor continued to stare at Dumbledore as whispers, some incredulous, some panicked, some actually sounding _pleased_, floated around him.  He sensed Pashnik tensing beside him, but said nothing.

The whispers died away, and Dumbledore continued calmly.  "The Ministry of Magic does not wish me to tell you this.  It is possible that some of your parents will be horrified that I have done so—either because they will not believe that Lord Voldemort has returned, or because they think I should not tell you so, young as you are.  It is my belief, however, that the truth is generally preferable to lies, and that any attempt to pretend that Cedric died as the result of an accident, or some sort of blunder of his own, is an insult to his memory."

"…won't be anywhere the Mudbloods can go now," Viktor heard someone muttering nearby, and turned to see Draco Malfoy laughing with his two overgrown friends.  Viktor shot him a nasty look and turned back to Dumbledore.

"There is somebody else who must be mentioned in connection with Cedric's death," Dumbledore was saying, and Viktor's blood went cold.  "I am talking, of course, about Harry Potter."

Viktor turned to look at Potter, relief flooding him.  It wasn't his fault; he hadn't done anything.  _Except fail to fight off the Imperius Curse_, said a nasty voice in his brain.  Viktor tried to push it away.

"…risked his own life to return Cedric's body to Hogwarts.  He showed, in every respect, the sort of bravery that few wizards have ever shown in facing Lord Voldemort, and for this, I honor him."

Dumbledore turned towards Potter, raising his glass, and nearly everyone else in the Great Hall did the same.  Viktor stood, so did Pashnik and Edina and nearly all of the Durmstrang students, but many of the Slytherins remained in their seats.

Once people had taken their seats again, Dumbledore went on.  "The Triwizard Tournament's aim was to further and promote magical understanding.  In the light of what has happened—of Lord Voldemort's return—such ties are more important than ever before."  Dumbledore paused, looking from Madame Maxime, to the Beauxbatons students, and finally to the Durmstrang students.

_There will be many choices to make in the upcoming weeks and months._ Viktor thought warily of Dumbledore's words to him.  Now he understood what they meant.

"Every guest in this Hall will be welcomed back here, at any time, should they wish to come," Dumbledore said, meeting Viktor's eyes. "I say to you all, once again—in the light of Lord Voldemort's return, we are only as strong as we are united, as weak as we are divided."

_There is no leader now._

_I think you are wrong about that._

What did Dumbledore expect from him?  What could he possibly do?  

"Lord Voldemort's gift for spreading discord and enmity is very great," continued Dumbledore, looking around at everyone in the Hall. "We can fight it only by showing an equally strong bond of friendship and trust. Differences of habit and language are nothing at all if our aims are identical and our hearts are open."

Viktor felt someone watching him, and turned toward the Gryffindor table.  _She_ was looking right at him, with an expression he couldn't read.  He looked away quickly.

_…won't be anywhere the Mudbloods can go now…_Malfoy's words rang in his head, and he was glad, for the first time, that she hadn't said she would come to visit him this summer.  Maybe it was better this way.  Maybe it was better if …whatever they had…just ended here.  She would be safer.

_Goodbye, Hermione_, he thought silently.

"Remember Cedric," Dumbledore was saying, as Viktor tuned back in.  "Remember, if the time should come when you have to make a choice between what is right, and what is easy, remember what happened to a boy who was good, and kind, and brave, because he strayed across the path of Lord Voldemort. Remember Cedric Diggory."

Dumbledore sat down, and a few minutes later, a low murmuring started up as people began talking once more.  Viktor remained silent, staring down at his plate.  He didn't feel especially hungry.

"Did you know?" said Pashnik in a low voice next to him, and Viktor noticed for the first time that Pashnik's hands were balled into fists.

Viktor shook his head.  Pashnik relaxed slightly and picked up his fork, but he didn't begin eating.  Viktor shot a quizzical look at Edina, but she only shrugged and looked at Pashnik in concern.  

Pashnik was silent for the rest of the meal, and Viktor was glad.  He couldn't have taken the normal prattle, not tonight.  

As they filed out of the Hall, Viktor felt _her_ watching him from the Gryffindor table again.  He didn't meet her eyes, however; he'd already said his goodbye.

"…talk to me," he heard Edina whispering to Pashnik ahead of him, and Viktor slowed down to let them get further ahead, to give them some privacy.  

Pashnik whispered something back to her and glanced back at Viktor.  "Viktor, are you coming or not?"  It was Pashnik's usual jovial tone, and Viktor marveled at the way Pashnik could just _decide_ to be in a better mood, and then do it.

Edina, however, looked as though she wasn't convinced.  Pashnik took her hand and said something softly to her as Viktor caught up with them, and the expression on her face softened a little.  

The sky was already darkening as they made their way back to the ship, and the first stars were twinkling overhead.  Viktor walked up the gangplank and turned to go toward his cabin, but Pashnik pulled him aside.

"Viktor, wait here.  I will be right back," he said, joining the other students filing toward the cabins.  Viktor walked over to the ship's railing, where Edina stood waiting.  

"What is going on?" he asked, but she just shrugged and leaned her elbows on the railing, looking up at the starry sky above.  Viktor imitated her.

They stood there in silence for a moment, and then Edina said, very matter-of-factly, "We go home tomorrow."

"Yes," said Viktor, looking out over the dark lake.  He remembered the second task, how hard he had worked to impress _her_.  All in vain.  And yet…maybe it was all for the best, in the end.  

"It will be strange going home, after spending a year here," said Edina, looking up towards the castle.  "I will miss this place."

"As will I," said Viktor softly, and she gave him a quick, sympathetic smile.  

Quick footsteps announced Pashnik's return.  "In honor of our last night here," he said, handing Viktor and Edina each a bottle of butterbeer, and opening one for himself, "I propose a toast."

"To what?" asked Viktor, twisting the top off of his bottle.  

Pashnik looked around.  "To…us," he said with a grin.

Edina smiled and clinked her bottle against Pashnik's, then against Viktor's.  Viktor stared at them for a moment, then clinked his bottle against Pashnik's.  "To us," he said, and took a long drink.

Pashnik grinned at him and flopped down onto the deck.  Edina rolled her eyes and perched on a bench, and Viktor went to sit across from her.

Pashnik tipped his head back and looked up.  "I had gotten these for the night of the third task," he said, "to celebrate."  

Viktor looked down at the bottle in his hand, the butterbeer suddenly tasting sour in his mouth.  "There was nothing to celebrate," he said, the words thick in his throat.

"Oh, I don't know about that," said Pashnik lightly.  "You're still alive, aren't you?"

Viktor looked up, and could see the serious expression on Pashnik's face, despite his tone.

Viktor shrugged.  "True," he said evenly.

"Are you ever going to tell us?"

"Ivan," said Edina warningly.  But Pashnik ignored her, and looked determinedly toward Viktor.

"Well, are you?"

Viktor hesitated.  "Maybe," he said, looking down.  "Not now."

"All right," said Pashnik.  "But you can.  Whenever you want."

"I know," said Viktor, still looking down at his bottle.

"Good," said Pashnik decisively.  "Because I would hate to have to bribe you with the pixie story your parents told me.  Can you imagine what Rita Skeeter would do with that?"

Against his will, laughter bubbled up in Viktor's throat.  Edina giggled, and Pashnik grinned at them both, looking very satisfied with his own wit.

An owl swooped down then, dropping a letter into Viktor's lap.  Viktor lit his wand to read it, his stomach contracting when he saw the handwriting.

Dear Viktor,

I still don't know exactly what happened that night, but I know that it hurt you somehow. I'm sorry if I said the wrong things when we talked last week. I have been thinking a lot about what Professor Dumbledore said at the Feast tonight, and I know he's right--it's really important for everyone on the same side to stand united. I suppose what I am really trying to say is this: you and I became good friends this year, and I don't want to lose that. I don't want to leave knowing things are not right between us. 

You asked me a few months ago if I would come and visit you this summer. Is the invitation still open?

Hermione__

Viktor stared down at the letter.  How did she always manage to do this?  To draw him back into those feelings each time he was ready to let them go?

"Viktor?  What is it?" said Pashnik.  "Is something wrong?"

Viktor shook his head.  "No," he said absently.  "I…am going to bed."

He went back to his cabin, clutching the letter in his hand.  He sat down on his bed and lit a candle to read it again.

You asked me a few months ago if I would come and visit you this summer. Is the invitation still open?

What could he say to that?  He still wanted her to come, very much.  Or did he?

What about the danger?  What if something happened to her?  Considering…everything that was going on, it was possible that she was in particular danger, no matter where she was.  His heart beat a little faster at the thought.  
  


Viktor changed and got into bed.  He should send her an answer, he knew that.  But he didn't know what to say.

_Damn it_, he thought, _this is what I have wanted all year.  What is wrong with me?_

**************************

When Viktor woke the next morning, it was as if his mind had worked on the problem for him and come up with a solution.  He knew what he would say to her.  And he would say it, too, at breakfast.

When he arrived in the Great Hall, however, she wasn't there.  He wasn't surprised.  After all, that seemed always to be the case when he wanted to talk to her.

He saw her walk in twenty minutes later and sit at the Gryffindor table.  Viktor quickly finished eating his eggs, so that he could go talk to her, but before he could stand up, Professor McGonagall approached him.

"Mr. Krum," she said, "Professor Dumbledore wishes to speak with you in his office."

Viktor looked at her, then over at the Gryffindor table.  "Of course," he said resignedly.  He glanced over at Pashnik and Edina as he rose.

"We will wait for you, out front," said Pashnik.  He looked as though he was dying to ask what Dumbledore might want.  Viktor would have liked to know that himself.

He followed Professor McGonagall out of the Great Hall and up the marble staircase to the second floor.  She led him down a corridor and stopped at a large stone gargoyle.

"Cockroach cluster," she said in her clipped tone, and the gargoyle sprang to life and jumped aside.  "He is waiting for you.  Go on up."

Viktor went through the doorway with some trepidation, and found himself at the foot of a spiral stone staircase.  The moment he stepped onto it, it started moving, carrying him upward.  It deposited him at a polished oak door with a brass knocker.  Viktor knocked.

The door opened a moment later, and Albus Dumbledore stood before him, dressed in robes of twinkling blue.

"Ah, Mr. Krum," he said, "please come in."

Viktor entered and looked around.  Dumbledore's office was large and circular, with a thick carpet on the floor and portraits of former headmasters and headmistresses snoozing on the walls.  It was as different as could be imagined from Karkaroff's overly ornate cabin on the ship.  Everywhere Viktor looked, there seemed to be something whirring or spinning or giving off smoke.  Next to the door, a large scarlet and gold bird sat on a perch.  There were a few feathers lying on the floor below it, and, as Viktor watched, a few more fell from the bird and drifted to the floor.  _A phoenix_, Viktor thought incredulously.  He had never seen one up close.

"Please sit down," said Dumbledore, indicating a chair in front of the desk.  Viktor sat, and Dumbledore seated himself behind the desk.

"You will be leaving this morning?" said Dumbledore.

Viktor nodded.

"I hope you will remember what I said last night.  You are welcome back here at any time."

"Thank you," said Viktor, and he knew his voice sounded stiffer than he meant it to.

Dumbledore considered him for a moment. "It is a strange thing," he said, "But it seems that it is always hardest to forgive ourselves."

Viktor looked up at Dumbledore, wondering how exactly this old man managed to see right into him.

"I fear there will be no time for worrying about such things in the future.  As I said before, there will be many choices to be made.  I fear that yours may be difficult ones."

Viktor wrinkled his forehead.  "What do you mean?"

Dumbledore sighed.  "Whether you like it or not, you have a certain influence.  There will be those who will try to use that against you.  Or who will try to use you against others."

Like he had been used against Diggory.  Viktor winced.

Dumbledore leaned forward over his desk.  "But you can choose to use it otherwise, should you wish to."  His light blue eyes were pinned on Viktor, asking him a question Viktor didn't quite understand.

"Of course I wish to," said Viktor, and he was surprised to hear the determination in his own voice.  

Dumbledore smiled and leaned back in his chair, looking satisfied.

Viktor frowned.  "What can I do?"

"For now, tell others.  Tell them that Lord Voldemort has risen again.  Make them believe.  The more people who believe it, the more who will be willing to fight it.  But be discreet."  Dumbledore's eyes were serious.  "You, especially, must be discreet.  Be careful about whom you trust."

Viktor gave a short laugh.  "I always am."

"You understand what is coming?" Dumbledore said gravely.

Viktor nodded.

"Then I beg you to remember that our friends may be all we have.  And now, I shall let you get back to yours."  He smiled and stood up.

Viktor started, remembering that Pashnik and Edina were waiting for him outside the castle.  Friends.  Yes, he supposed that was what they were.

Dumbledore held out a hand, and Viktor solemnly shook it.  "If there is…anything else…"

"Contact me," said Viktor immediately.  He paused.  "Professor Dumbledore...thank you."

Dumbledore nodded.  "You're welcome," he said.  "Goodbye, Viktor."

Viktor left the office, went down the moving staircase and out into the corridor beyond.  As he reached the first floor, he heard noise in the Entrance Hall below.  He looked down to see groups of Hogwarts students with their trunks, waiting for carriages.  His eyes swept the Hall and he found _her_, standing with her friends near one wall.  Potter was talking to Fleur Delacour.  

_This is it_, he thought, sincerely hoping that this was the last time he would have to screw up his courage to talk to her.  He descended the stairs and made his way over to her.

"…how the Durmstrang students are getting back?" the red-haired boy was saying as Viktor approached them.  "D'y'reckon they can steer that ship without Karkaroff?"

Viktor bristled at the idea.  "Karkaroff did not steer," he said. "He stayed in his cabin and let us do all the work."

She turned around to face him, and the expression on her face was an odd mixture of anxiety and relief.

"Could I have a word?" he asked.

"Oh…yes…all right," she said, and followed him through the crowd.  He led her to a quiet alcove off the Entrance Hall, where they could talk without being jostled.

He turned around to face her, taking a deep breath.

"I got your letter," he began.

"Oh…good," she said, her tone suggesting that she wasn't quite sure it was.

Viktor paused for a moment, wondering if what he was about to say was the right thing.  He wanted her, true, but not like this.  Not out of pity.  "I wanted to tell you...that I do not think you should come to Bulgaria this summer."

She looked shocked at this.  Perhaps she had never expected him to reject her offer.  _Well_, he thought, _why should she?_

"Why—why not?" she asked, sounding flustered.

Viktor looked straight at her. "Because it is too dangerous, after all that has happened." He paused again, and looked at her more gently. "Especially for you," he added.

She looked down.  Viktor stared at the top of her head, wondering how on earth he would have the strength to finish this, when all he wanted to do was reach out and stroke her hair.

Viktor clenched his fist.  _No_, he told himself, _you must finish this, for her sake, and for yours._

"But even if it were safe, I would tell you not to come."  There, he had said it.  She lifted her head to look at him, but he couldn't meet her eyes.  He looked away, over her head.  He could see her friends across the Entrance Hall.  Potter was leaning against the wall, and the red-haired boy was watching them, craning his neck to see over the crowd.

"What?  Why?" she said, sounding amazed.

"Because it is not where you want to be," he said, and he cringed inwardly at the truth of his own words.  She didn't answer him.  Well, he thought, what could she say, really?  They both knew it was the truth.

He looked at her finally.  "Will you still write to me?"

She nodded, looking relieved.  "Of course," she said with a smile, "We're friends, remember?"

Viktor nodded.  _Friends_.  Now he had three.

A flash of red across the Entrance Hall caught his eye, and Viktor looked over her head again.  The red-haired boy was staring straight at him, a strange expression on his face.

Viktor frowned.  "Your friends—they do not like me," he said.

"That's not true!" she protested at once. "Harry likes you fine, and Ron...is, well...Ron..." she trailed off. "I really should be getting back. The carriages will be here soon."

Viktor looked at her, unsure that he could let her go, now that it came down to it.  Part of him wanted to tell her that he'd changed his mind, and was the second week of July a good time for her?  He opened his mouth to say it, then closed it again.  He gestured toward her friends, and she led the way back to them.

"I liked Diggory," Viktor said to Potter, feeling that he should say something, something to let Potter know that he hadn't done…what he had done...to Diggory on purpose.  "He was always polite to me. Always. Even though I was from Durmstrang—with Karkaroff."

"Have you got a new Headmaster yet?" asked Potter.

Viktor shrugged.  He was graduating anyway.  He supposed that they would find someone.  Karkaroff couldn't be that hard to replace.

He shook Potter's hand, then the red-haired boy's.  Viktor glanced at her, but she was looking at the red-haired boy, a concerned look on her face.  Viktor sighed and turned toward the front doors.

"Can I have your autograph?" said a strangled voice behind him.  Viktor turned back and saw the red-haired boy holding out a scrap of parchment.  He looked at the boy in surprise for a moment.  Viktor took the quill in his other hand and signed it.  And to think he had thought the red-haired boy didn't like him.  Had he been wanting to ask for an autograph all this time?

_Whether you like it or not, you have a certain influence._

Viktor handed the quill and parchment back to the boy, and then turned back to her.  "Goodbye, Hermione," he said quietly.

She smiled slightly.  "Goodbye Viktor."  

And he turned and walked out of the crowded Entrance Hall, determinedly not looking back.

The sun shone on his face as he walked outside, and Viktor welcomed it, suddenly feeling as if he had been in a dark, cold place for a very long time, and was just now emerging into the light.  He descended the stone steps and saw Pashnik and Edina sitting on a stone bench not far away, heads bent together in conversation.  He stood watching them for a moment.  They were talking animatedly about something, and neither seemed to be able to stop smiling at the other.  Viktor felt his heart constrict briefly, then he pushed the feeling aside.  It was time to move on.  

"Ivan!" he called.  "Edina!

They looked up at him, then at each other.  He could see the grin on Ivan's face from where he was, a hundred yards away.  

The two of them stood up and walked over to him.

"Are you all right?" asked Ivan.

Viktor looked back at the castle for a long moment, considering the question.  "Yes," he said, somewhat surprised to realize that this was the truth.

"So, is it time?"

Viktor took a deep breath and turned towards the ship.  "Yes," he said, "it is time to leave."

The End 

_In this world there's a whole lot of trouble_

_In this world there's a whole lot of pain_

_In this world there's a whole lot of trouble_

_And a whole lot of ground to gain_

Why take when you could be giving? 

_Why watch as the world goes by?_

_It's a hard enough life to be living_

_Why walk when you can fly?_

_In this world there's a whole lot of sorrow_

_In this world there's a whole lot of shame_

_In this world there's a whole lot of sorrow_

_And a whole lot of ground to gain_

When you spend your whole life wishing 

_Wanting and wondering why_

_It's a long enough life to be living_

_Why walk when you can fly?_

_In this world there's a whole lot of golden_

_In this world there's a whole lot of plain_

_In this world, you've a soul for a compass_

_And a heart for a pair of wings_

_There's a star on the far horizon_

_Shining bright in an azure sky_

_For the rest of the time that you're given_

_Why walk when you can fly?_

_--Mary-Chapin Carpenter_


End file.
